In Shining Armor

Aksel is physically maturing by the day, and I can see it with my eyes. He's growing strong and tall, and dark and handsome. But if I'm honest, he's growing away from me, too. And I can feel it in my heart. In the deep, cherished chamber that can only be described as motherhood.

That said, I've felt an unexplained sadness of late... I miss my child, even though he's near and never far away.

And I've been grappling with this emotion for a while, the want to better know Aksel. Specifically, how he feels, his favorites, apart from my assumptions, his ideas, that are still so heavily guarded by the words, that after all these years, are nevertheless locked away - lonely, elusive, and fleeting.

Damn, cement tower! Damn, autism! I just want the key...

I want to know and rescue his precious thoughts. At seven-years-old... At eight-years-old... At nine-years-old... I want to be his mom in shining armor. Is that so wrong?

Because, I know I'll never get these days back. And I realize I may, sadly, never get answers to all the many tired questions I (annoyingly) ask aloud (almost) every hour: Aksel, are you happy? Are you bored? What are you thinking about?

As his mother, I cherish the moments when he wants to engage, apart from the perfunctory exchanges (i.e. I'm hungry, I'm thirsty, I need help). But I cherish those too, because they fill a space. Because I know he's here, he's with us.

It's just summer, and as strange as this might sound, I feel pressured by the time we have to be with each other. (Of which, I'm equally grateful for.) I want memories, and laughter, and dinner-table conversations. But I don't want to force them. Or rather, I'm helpless, and I can't even force them. (I can't even get my child to sit at the table.) But the clock's still ticking...

In closing, I think a lot of these feelings are coming to the surface now, because of Alistair, my fearless four-year-old that wakes with a thousand bright thoughts to share each morning. And I'm amazed by all that he so easily and freely gives! I just also realize, comparatively-speaking, all the many dreams and flights o' fancy, I've never heard from Aksel.

But I find comfort in looking for them in his eyes, and hearing them through his music, yet I still miss my child...