She stands, arms folded across her chest, almost huddled as the wind whips around the side of the building. Restless, full of undirected energy she shifts her wait from foot to foot, not nervous exactly, something else, a frisson of excitement, a dash of anticipation, maybe a nerve or two in there as well. She doesn’t feel the cold bite to the wind, the huddled body posture is more of a security blanket than an attempt to stay warm. She smiles, remembering long evenings wrapped in the safety of the heavy wool blankets of her childhood, mug of hot soup beside her, listening to her father telling stories or her mother singing. Happy memories, of feeling secure, protected, loved, the weight of the blanket an even pressure across her body.

She smiles again, but softly, her lips parting slightly as she feels that blanket again, and wrapping her arms more tightly yet around her she turns, away from the wind, eyes scanning the walkway as the seconds pass, oblivious to the movements of passers by….waiting…


About Autistic writing

Im 46, autistic and vocal about it, a specialist autism mentor in higher education, embarking on my MEd in adult autism, autistic advocate and campaigner, writer and co-founder of asP - the autism strategy partnership #differentnotdamaged #askaboutasP

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