Caitlyn and Vi had received a letter home from preschool, but it’s not like they needed it.

You had just been sent off for school that week, more of a daycare really. Caitlyn would never forget that first day. You didn’t want to play with the other children, wouldn’t let either of them leave. You’d sobbed and cling to Vi’s leg, and when she’d had to pry you off to hug you, Caitlyn stepped in. Someone had to be the firm parent.

You’d responded with hitting yourself and curling into a ball. Everything all at once hit Caitlyn in the chest.

Eventually, you’d acclimated, but the letter home that Vi’d found in your backpack had detailed the social withdrawal from your peers along with your aversion to play-doh, shaving cream, and the fairly lights hung up everywhere.

Caitlyn and Vi shared a look as they read the letter, while you were completely occupied eating your mid-afternoon snack, the one you always had; apple slices, a cut up cheese stick, and your favorite, a clementine. The same thing every day.

The mothers had the same thought at the very same time; you were most likely autistic.