Everything Feels Better in the Morning
When my kids were babies and I was lucky enough to talk to my mom ten times a day, she would always say, “Everything seems better in the morning, honey.” At the time, I don’t think I fully understood the weight of that wisdom. But now—after losing her, after years of long nights with Dylan, after learning to live with a kind of exhaustion most people can’t imagine—I hear her words like a quiet promise in the dark.
Tomorrow, I get to pick up Dylan and bring him to the lake to spend a few days with us. I know the moms reading this will understand the joy of having your kids back under your roof, no matter how old they are. There’s just nothing like it. And there’s really nothing like Dylan energy—it fills the house, it tests your patience, it cracks your heart wide open, and it reminds you that love can be loud, and messy, and holy.
Yes, I’m lucky. So incredibly lucky. I might be on the other side of the hardest part of this journey—no longer in survival mode every day—but I never forget the families who are still in the thick of it. Families right here in our valley who can’t go to the gym, or out to dinner, or even leave the house some days because they don’t have help. Because there’s nowhere for their adult child with autism to go. Because we haven’t built a world that includes them yet.
That’s why I started Dylan’s House. Because there’s a housing crisis for individuals with autism. Because there’s a transition crisis when these beautiful souls age out of school and into a world that isn’t ready for them. Because parents like me are terrified of what happens when we’re no longer here.
Dylan’s House is more than a nonprofit. It’s a promise. A promise to families like mine that they’re not alone. That their children matter. That we will keep showing up, keep building, and keep believing in a future where every adult with autism has a safe, supported place to call home.
My mom was right. Things really do seem lighter in the morning. Especially when I know Dylan is coming home.