Years ago, I won a trophy (small, albeit) speaking about my son’s autism and my homelessness and how these collided. “Serendipity,” I called it. I spoke of how it took an autistic person like my son, Cullen, to understand an ex-homeless fella like myself and vice versa. Some 5 or 6 years later, after years of pure frustration and helplessness dealing with his autism and delays, I never dreamt I would feel the way I do about him now.

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