In a glance; the fragile newborn, the grasping toddler, the happy kid, the lonesome child, the wise little one, the sarcastic teen, the comedian, the artist, the one who ask for little, takes without knowing and gives everything. Joy, beauty, intelligence. Some of myself, some of him and some magic all her own.

Does an autistic spirit shine through a person’s eyes differently? Is it possible to witness her seeing the world differently by the spark that ignites when she looks inward?

What part of her indelible self will remain visible when she looses the smooth roundness of her cheeks?