My son is the only student on a big yellow bus that takes him to his autism school thirty minutes away. There is a driver and an aide and these teams change from time to time. My favorite team is two of the SWEETEST ladies I like to call "The Mexican Grandmas". I can hear them happily chattering to each other in Spanish as I walk with my son to the door of the bus. The bus is immaculate inside, and there is always a smiley-face fleece blanket hanging neatly on the bar behind the driver's seat. When it rains, the driver always leaves a towel on the bottom step to wipe your feet on. Both ladies squeal with delight when Sam steps onto the bus, and they talk to him as if he was their own precious baby.
This morning the driver reached out and held Sam's hand to help him climb up the bus stairs. She look sincerely into my eyes and said, "I LOVE it when he holds my hand. I feel something very special from him." I said, "Yes, he has a very special spirit, doesn't he?" She said, "Yes! That's it. Very special."
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