Reflections page: Mom, I understand...

To Mom

   I love you Mom. When I wake up in the morning, the first face I see is yours and when I get into bed at night, the last one I see is yours.
  I wake up to your smiling face, full of tenderness and love. You give me a kiss and ruffle my hair and I respond by pinching you or hitting you. It's not that I don't love you Mom, I really do but I can't control my responses. I want to hug you back and tell you that I love you too but my irritation at being woken up for school takes precedence over these feelings and I can't help it. I see your face turn from a beaming one into a sad one as you ask me why I hit you when you were just showing me your love. I feel like kicking myself and apologising to you and giving you a tight hug but I just can't do it. Those responses are locked inside me, somewhere deep down.
 You drop me to school and I am supposed to wave and say goodbye to you. How can I do that when all I want to do is rush back to the car and go home with you? I put on a brave face and say goodbye to something behind you because I cannot make eye contact. You drive off and I fortify myself to go through the six hours of school, surrounded by normal, happy screaming kids who look at me as if I'm an alien. It's not that they are bad but they are also kids and don't understand why I'm different.  Some are really kind and give me a hug and help me follow what is going on in the mad world around me. But there are some who take advantage of the fact that I cannot talk and falsely accuse me of hitting them and I get scolded by the teacher. They derive some sort of pleasure in causing me pain. I do not blame them as I am the one who is unable to speak for myself.
  The teachers are understanding and they try and help me study even though most of the letters of the alphabet look the same to me. How are b and d different from each other or for that matter P and 9? I'm sure they can all be interchanged. The teachers and special educators clap for me when I do well but every now and then I sense their disappointment when they feel I'm regressing. I manage to get through the day looking forward to the time when you will come to take me back. I don't need the school bell or any clock to remind me that school is over. I just know it, I have an internal body clock that is as accurate as any clock in this world. I rush to the exit gate where I know you will be waiting for me, because you are always there before time. The loving mom that you are, you will not let me wait for even a second because you know that will scare me. You pick me up and give me kisses all over my face as if you haven't seen me for days. I respond by giving an inadequate smile looking somewhere in the distance.

You give me lunch Mom and teach me how to eat independently. This is a task I actually perform very well because I love to eat. However, I'm trying to follow your instructions and eat without spilling and dropping any food. I have changed and am tucked in bed ready for my afternoon nap, when my elder brother and sister return home from school. They go to a different school which has longer hours and a different curriculum. They enter talking excitedly, say hi to me and start telling you about their day. I try and make sense of what they are saying but I can't concentrate for too long. I want to be a part of this commotion but I'm somewhere far away and there are invisible walls between me and my family members. I turn my face the other way and play with my doll.

 I love to scribble and paint and draw even though you can't discern what I've made. I love to put make up on my face and dress up even though my brother and sister laugh when they see my made up face and say I look like a clown. You scold me Mom for slyly using your make-up, for breaking your lipsticks and ruining the walls but the minute you look away, I do it all over again. I know I'll be reprimanded but I can't help it; the colours and shades beckon me. They seem to be more alluring and colourful than the world around me.
I have been taught to say I am eight years old but I feel like a two year old. I am taught how to behave in public. I scream and shout, I hit and cry and I am scolded by all of you. I can't confirm to society's behaviour norms and I am aware of people giving me strange looks, whispering, making fun of me and laughing. People don't understand me and call me a retard or mad or spastic. But you and Dad know me Mom. How then can you talk about me in my presence? You say she will not be able to do it. My brother and sister call me 'Dodo' affectionately, Dad says she doesn't understand anything. Oh but I do understand Mom! I know that all of you are talking about me. You know that I have perfect hearing so I do hear. I hear all that is said about me.
Mom, you get teary eyed every now and then when you discuss me with Dad and your close friends. You lose hope at times and say where did I go wrong? Why me? Why my daughter? I want to tell you Mom that I understand. I want you to have faith that things will eventually be alright. I know that you are very strong and I know that my family loves me. One day I might just surprise all of you and the world by doing something extraordinary. I still haven't discovered my forte but the day I do, there will be no holding me back.

  I am not a retard, in fact I am very intelligent and have an extraordinary memory. I do not have social skills but I am not spastic or mad. I live in my own world unlike the rest of you and I do not know the meaning of deceit and treachery. I have an innocent and pure soul. I am AUTISTIC.
  Hold my hand and walk with me Mom, till you can. The day you are unable to, I will take your hand and walk with you. The world might desert you but I never will. I will be there for you Mom, forever and ever...