(For privacy I've chosen to change the names of the kid I was with to something fictional)

I was recently inducted into the National Honors Society and was told I needed a total of 12 hours of volunteering. I signed up for a week-long autism bike camp to knock out hours. 

But, I wasn’t sure what to expect. How would I do this? Would my kid like me? What if they fell off? Questions swirled as I signed in. Chloe. 7 years old. Has mild autism. Becomes frustrated quickly with new tasks. My eyes scanned the form as I read. After some training on how to use the bikes and interact with the kids, the time had come. 

I mounted her up, checked the helmet, gave a big push and she was off. Chloe took on the training bike like it was a breeze. Telling me about her dog, mac and cheese, and her love for rocks,  as she happily pedaled along.

Day four came and everything was still smooth sailing. That was until it was time to bike outside—on real bikes. Enthusiastically Chloe pumped her legs until the bike began to speed away, faster than the running pace I had set. Losing control and forgetting how to brake, Chloe rode off the pavement and into the grass. Luckily she didn’t get hurt, but Chloe was furious. 

“You hate me!” she screamed. “I’m never biking again, this is stupid, stupid, stupid!” 

I decided to stop at a local store and pick up a surprise for Chloe. A mining gem set. Hoping that this present would be enough motivation to encourage Chloe to get back on her bike. 

Day 5: Chloe was ecstatic about the set and ended up riding again. Standing and watching her bike, her mom came up to me with tears in her eyes.

“Thank you,” she said, “Having this new mode of transportation and knowing she can do hard things means the entire world.” 

This week turned from volunteering the summer away to developing a relationship with this little girl. It made me realize even the little things like biking or having conversations about rocks could brighten someone's day, making this experience absolutely worth it. My heart beamed at knowing I had made a difference in this little girl's life.