"No!" Ian's eyes brimmed with tears of rage. "I quit! I quit this whole family!" Before I could stop him, he turned and darted through the door.
He's taller than I am and has the cocky attitude of a teen who can take care of himself, even though he refuses to do his laundry or dishes and will not make his meals. To make maters worse, his disability often robs him of the keel he needs to make sound decisions.
He's faster than I am, too, and disappeared into the tree line before I could catch up. We'd done this before. Just six months earlier he'd bolted out the door and outrun the high school football player to disappear in those trees.
We called the police again and Sandi drove around, hoping for a glimpse, while I stayed home to fret, stew and try to calm James.
With temperatures forecast to drop to near dangerous lows, the authorities took the situation seriously, and the machinery for a full-scale search with helicopters, dogs, and ground teams moved toward action.
Before things started in earnest, Ian walked in through the door. I wrapped my arms around him and held him while tears burned at my eyes, then called Sandi. She'd coordinate with the police and get the search cancelled.
The police spoke with Ian. He has a history of elopement going back to his preschool years, but this time the talk seems to have had an effect. He hasn't eloped again for almost a full year.
Like all parents who steer their children through adolescence to responsible adulthood, we know we have no guarantees. A child within the autism spectrum can bring almost insurmountable challenges, but we don't give up. We can't. We love our children too much to let them fail.
William R. Bartlett lives in Belton with his family.