Intensive therapy ended quietly yesterday.  Hillary did the last shift, following the current plan in an unremarkable way.  Julia attended and did not attend as usual and ended up with reward time.  Hillary wrote her notes and it was all over.  At noon.

Quiet.  Quiet, quiet.  Four, very transformative years ended.

And then, we began something new.

I made a list for the rest day:  work on remaking the play room, fold clean clothes, meditate, walk dog, food shop, swim or paint (neither of which happened), see Monsters U -- the movie, go to Amy’s house for food and music.  Julia played on the iPad in the car.  

At Amy’s house, I had a very good time.  Julia did not play with the kids assembled, she found Lego to assemble and play with.  She did eat with everyone and I dragged her into the living room just before we left to listen to music played.  She strummed a guitar in time but not in tune.    She enjoyed herself; I felt the pain of her difference and her inability to engage with the other kids who were making music videos the way that I would have been recording versions of Beatle’s songs with friends.  

The pain sucks and there will be more and more.  Intensive therapy has taught Julia so much and has also wrapped her in a safe world where her behavior has been normalized and she has constantly been engaged at her own level.  Now, we step into the larger world together.  I know she will not always be welcomed and she will not always welcome the welcome that she receives. 

My prayer is to take one day at a time joyfully.  I have to smile.  That is my prayer for myself as well as for Julia and for us together.  It is all the same.  It is time that we make out way out of the crysalis and learn to fly.