As a single mother of five, I carried worry like a second skin. And much of that worry centered around my son—the one who always marched to the beat of a rhythm only he could hear.
He was a little… different. He’d show up to friends’ houses barefoot. He’d forget the most basic chores. Homework would sit completed in his backpack—never turned in—despite my relentless reminders. And yet, when it came to tests, he’d score near perfect.
In seventh grade, I had him evaluated, praying for clarity. The results? ADD, without hyperactivity. But academically? He was performing at an 11th-grade level.
That didn’t ease my heart.
He had only two close friends in high school. Never went to dances. Skipped prom. He kept to himself and lived in his own world. And while I loved his uniqueness, I couldn’t help but worry about his future. Would he find his place in the world? Would others see the brilliance I saw?
At 17, he left for college. I nearly crumbled under the weight of my fear. Had I pushed him too soon? Was he ready? He wasn’t even legally an adult yet. But off he went, and I held my breath.
Now, as he enters his third year at the University of Hartford, I look at him in awe.
His circle of friends has blossomed. He’s maintaining a 3.5 GPA in psychology. Last summer, he worked as a counselor at a camp for adults with developmental disabilities—a role I never imagined, given his once extreme food sensitivities and social hesitations. This summer? They promoted him to Assistant Camp Director.
In January, he stunned me again—organizing a study abroad program across South Africa, Paris, and Rome. He handled the scholarships, travel plans, and paperwork all on his own.
This boy—my boy—has become a man of strength, compassion, and vision.
Years ago, I feared the world wouldn’t understand him. I feared he’d always be that “awkward duckling” trailing behind.
But the truth is, he was never trailing. He was simply growing. Quietly, patiently, beautifully.
Today, I don’t just see a swan—I see my swan. And he was always mine.
To any parent wondering if their child will ever find their wings: be patient. Keep believing. Some souls just need time—and when they soar, it will take your breath away.
