MY BOY JON

MY BOY JON

Each day my Jon spends hours lining up his cars

Red ones, blue ones, then green

On he goes, through the colour wheel

Organizing each row to be “just so”

Then and only then, he’ll come to the table

Dragging his purple, stuffed ape, with one eye in his chubby, wet hand

His fingers are slickened by constant sucking

Up the ape goes

Flopping onto our decrepit table

Stained from years of use and coffee dripping down the sides of mugs

Even its edges are worn

Caught in one corner of the table

I notice a tiny fragment from last night’s dress

I hadn’t realized during our rambunctiousness

That it had torn

My husband and I, of course…

While young Jon slept on

Curled in his spaceman-sheeted bed

Under Buzz’s matted down comforter

But I digress

Its morning now

The sun is streaming through the kitchen window as I pour

Rounded bits of what passes as cereal into Jon’s bowl

Then

To avoid a torrent of autistic frustration

I stop to pick

Out comes each pink piece

For only girls like pink

Jon stoically informed me a year ago

No way was he wanting pink in his cereal bowl

After, I’m careful to balance the weight of the spoon

“Just so”

It now lies on top of the cereal

Waiting for Jon’s attention

“Good Mommy! Good Mommy!”

He piles on the praise

A smile forms on my cracked lips

Milk too?

He eagerly asks

With a slight touch of drool

I lean over and catch it with my finger tips

Relenting on my intention to withhold

I hand him what’s left of our milk

Watching with some regret

Each drip

A miniature pool of drips forms on the cereal’s surface

I want to shake it down to the bottom

But if I give in

Lean over

And take it away

To shake it for him

“Good Mommy” will turn into “rotten”

Picking up my mug

To choke back my coffee

Black

I can’t help but place my fingertip on the rim

Starting to make circles around the mug

Over

And

Over

Again

My husband’s hand now tops mine

He gently lifts it off

Taking the mug

At the same time

“Be calm” he reminds me

Inclining his head towards our boy

I would do anything for Jon

He truly is my pride and joy

I watch him now

Placing the spoon into his mouth

And try desperately

To hide my shudder

At his sudden slurp

My husband’s arm is around my shoulder now

The right one

It always has to be the right one

Together we stand strong

He offers to do the cutting up

Prepping the meat for Jon’s sandwich

Which I had forgotten… again

Together, we prepare

Carrots

Which I scrub so clean they actually gleam

Under our fluorescent lights

A juice box too

Is selected after singing a song

It’s just a little ditty

But it’s something I need

In order to “get along”

Jon asks for a cookie to add to the lunch

Inside, I suddenly have a “bad hunch”

Pulling the lid of the faded, ceramic pig

I stick in my whole forearm

But, no matter how much I dig

The last one… is gone

I start to smack my hand on the counter

Over

And

Over

It just keeps getting louder

Jon comes now to my side

It’s his arms around me

Holding me tight

I am embarrassed

But try to calm down

Despite my loss of pride

I know Jon is right

We’ll get it under control

Together

The "lie" is the Reader assumes Jon the child has autism and it's actually his Mother.