I have been journaling for years.  On and off - I get into a really difficult life moment and I just write away.  If I die tomorrow, whoever finds my journals will just be devastated thinking I was the most depressed person ever.  Not true.  I am mostly happy.  Blogging - what the hell.  Part of me resists - I like the sensory experiences of handwriting a jounal.  The feel of the pen, the smell of the pages.  God, I am old. Our college senior babysitter/tutor was here yesterday giving me graduate school applications to complete references for her.  When did I become this person who is qualified to give graduate school recommendations?  She told me that she has never bought a book of stamps.  This was her first time - a virgin book of stamps purchaser.  My God, she is 21!  When I was in college in tha mid to late 80's, we wrote letters. I bought lots of stamps!!! I got amazingly long, thoughtful letters from my friends that I have kept and cherish.   I have not written a real letter in at least 10 years and suddenly this revelation from my babysitter makes me long for the days of letter anticipation.  Checking the mailbox with bated breath.  E-mail is just not the same and thinking this makes me feel so old.  I turned 40 this year and could not be more fine with it.  My body is fine except that I lose my boobs when I lay down.  I have to peak over my back to find them.  My husband doesn't seem to mind and I still see that look in his eye on most days. My sons are on the autism spectrum.  Austin is 10 , almost 11  and has high functioning autism.  Jake is 8 almost 9 and has a touch of Asperger's.  I honestly think he would not be diagnosed today, but having his brother kept us hypersensitive to his quirks.   So, I lost my job today.   Sort of.  I work for a private rehab company and they are slow.  They are downsizing and letting people go.   So I have been feeling a little down today since my boss called and laid me off.   I can still work on contract, but only have one case right now and they can't guarantee me that more will come.  So, I am sad and
nervous about having to find a new job.

Then Austin came home from school with a friend.  His name is Joe and
he is in Austin's regular class.  I am sitting at the computer looking
at job opening lists and I can hear Austin and Joe playing a board
game downstairs.  Austin is explaining how to play the game, they are
laughing, Austin is making appropriate comments, asking and answering
questions.  Then I hear him say to Joe, " I think me and you are
friends!"   and all is right with the world... Being the parent of a child with autism makes you keep your priorities in life - you can stray, but it will always knock you right.  Austin's words and laughter wash over me like warm sunshine.  Each syllable a delicious feast for my ears.  A sign of his connection to our world.  Nothing else matters.
 So, job search here I come.