Love arrives in many different packages this Valentine’s season.

Dear Neighbor, 

My youngest daughter was diagnosed with autism at the age of five. She is an adult now and we have chosen not to use that language anymore. I am a “neurotypical” person, meaning I am not on the autism spectrum. She and others like her are neurodivergent. A diagnosis implies there is something wrong that needs to be corrected. In my family, I am the one who needs a designation, hence, “neurotypical.” I need it because, often, I am the one who ends up learning from her honesty and her pure view of life on this earth. I have learned from her for all of her 32 years and I continue to do so. I have begun to call these learning experiences, “Alaina wisdom stories.” This is one of those.

When Alaina was 12 years old, we were rough-housing and playing on the floor. The dog, Molly, was barking and tugging at our socks, trying to join the fun. We started laughing and I looked at Alaina and said, “I love you, Molly.”  She laughed and said, “I am not the dog mom, my name is Alaina.” I immediately began to panic. You see, I was very fond of that dog. I really spent an inordinate amount of time playing with the dog, walking the dog, and spoiling the dog rotten. So, my first thought was, “Oh my God, now my child thinks I love the dog more than I love her.” Trying to rectify this, I said to Alaina, “Oh, I am so sorry! But you know that I love you more than the dog.” She giggled, rolled her eyes at me and said, “No, you don’t!” I immediately became serious. I could not have my daughter thinking that I loved the dog more than I loved her. That is just not something that would ever happen. So, I became more insistent, saying, “You know that I love you more than the dog, don’t you?” Her laughter became a little bit uncertain and she said, “Mom, stop teasing me.” She often had difficulty with teasing or jokes. So, I needed to explain to her that I was not teasing at all. Her smile faded and she said, “Please, stop mom. You are scaring me. This is not funny.” Desperate, I attempted to convince her once more that I did indeed love her more than I loved the dog. Tears pooled up in her eyes and I could see that she was now on the verge of a full meltdown. What should I do? I took a deep, deep breath, remembering the vow that I had made to myself when we learned that I was neurotypical. I had vowed to live in her world instead of expecting her to live in mine. So, I asked her, “Why can I not love you more than I love the dog?” 

She looked me in the eyes and said, “Because, love does not have amounts, Mom–if it did, you could run out of it.” 

“Dear Neighbor” authors are united in a belief that civility and passion can coexist. We believe curiosity and conversation make us a better community.