I was washing the dishes in the kitchen last night, listening to Maggie playing in the yard, happily enjoying the gorgeous weather that we have been blessed with. She was alternating between the familiar ‘hoot’ that I know so well, and reciting passages from Dora with great dramatic flare. I was thinking about how the sounds of Maggie must be so familiar to the neighbours by now. Even the ones who don’t know her well would surely know her to hear her.
And like how a certain scent or sound, a swatch of fabric, or the taste of a familiar spice combination can catapult us back into a memory that we haven’t thought of in years, my mind was sent backward by 15 years.
We were living in a small town outside of Ottawa, and had just moved into our first house. We felt like grown-ups, and I’m quite sure we looked like grown-ups, but really we were so so young. Shortly after we moved in, I met the lady who lived next door. She introduced herself and told me that they have 3 children. She mentioned that she had a son who has autism, and that if I should ever see him outside by himself, I should come let them know right away. She said that they had locks that would keep that from happening, but that you just never know.
