On a trip to a grocery store a few months ago I encountered someone we would now call  neurodivergent or "on the spectrum" I guess — somewhat vague terms to describe people that seem to range from the socially awkward to the non-communicative. Apparently the number earning this diagnosis is going up. Part of this is increased awareness, most likely. I've always felt a sort of silent kinship with socially inept people. I die a little inside when I see a painfully shy person being teased for being who they are and instinctively pull back when I recognize someone like that to accord them some space. A woman at the coffee shop I go to has all the tell-tale signs of a shy person but obviously she's putting herself in a public setting so good on her. For our first few interactions she kept her eyes downcast and didn't smile but on my last visit she recognized me and smiled a little. Small triumphs.  My shyness is a sort of taciturn demon I've mostly managed to tame in adulthood but it still appears unexpectedly from time to time.

But back to the Shop Rite and the boy bagging the groceries. His averted gaze gave him away but he was having a sweet conversation with the woman in front of me about her dogs and his cat as he asked her a series of questions. So, I thought to myself I'll greet him warmly and maybe we can chat too. 

 "How's it going?" I asked him brightly when my turn came up. He looked down and away and said nothing. Hmmm. Ok. Later I wondered if he hadn't noticed that kinship between us, too and was put off by it the way two similarly charged magnets repel each other. Or he just didn't have anything to say to me.

When the social landscape presents a chronic challenge you learn new ways to navigate the world. Some of us write. Writing is one way to interact with the world at a safe distance.  It has a therapeutic element but can sometimes feel like a bad bargain. Sending your innermost thoughts into the void and waiting to hear some faint echoes in reply like tossing a pebble off the top of a cliffside. 

There are millions of us out there. Introverts roaming the globe. We silently acknowledge each other by averting our eyes.  

PS. A few weeks ago I returned the store and saw that saw bagger. After he was done he looked up at my hat with the swan on it and said, "I like your hat." Then he offered his hand for a fist bump and we parted ways.