Hearing a knock on the front door, I checked on the stove before heading to answer it.
‘Hi Mum,’ my son Billy, 16, said before coming in with his then girlfriend.
‘You’re just in time for dinner,’ I laughed, plating up the food in the kitchen.
It was July last year, and Billy made a conscious effort to come over for dinner a couple times a week, after he had been living with his girlfriend just around the corner.
We had always been really close, and it was nice to see him, even though I knew he was safe living a few streets away.
Billy was comfortable in my company, but he had always suffered socially and with autism he wasn’t always so confident in public situations.
So much so,…
