"This is where those things are with the eggs inside them", I said. Then I went on in greater detail, referencing my Nurse's knowledge and history with physiology and using my somewhat newly acquired maternal instincts, plus incorporating traits I've most recently adopted when dealing with her in particular, it's called frankness. I try to be blunt and direct, because flowering up the subject with subtext and subterfuge dilutes it too tremendously and things get lost in translation.
I worried as of late. I see her growing up and I see her body change. This is normal, but she is not. She is different. She is remarkable.
I worried that the very important start of puberty would come for her while I was not around, like say in the middle of math period at school. I had visions of a scene, something not unlike the horror movie Carrie, heaven help me. So I preempted the whole thing by telling her what to expect. I concluded by explaining that this was rather private, not a topic for the lunch table, but something she may only discuss with me and with female members of our family. I cautioned to avoid talking about it with good friends even, until she was a few years older and then I said, "by all means, when you're bigger, you can talk about it with your good girl friends". To this, she responded, "Oh mom, don't worry, I don't have any good friends". She smiled then, meaning to comfort me. My heart twisted inside my chest and a discomfort I cannot explain overtook me. My love for her burned a hole through the roof above us, straight up to the stars in the sky.
People with Asperges Syndrome seem to have a hard time making friends.
Last night, again, lying beside her, talking before sleep, in a language I know, but which I alter so that we can communicate clearly. "What do you feel inside when someone cries?" I asked. "Sad", she said in reply. But I didn't buy it. Her flat response was typical, but even still, I sensed that she was not telling what she felt. "Tell me what you actually feel like when someone cries, not what you think you should". She breathed deeply, thoughtfully and turned to me; "I wish they would stop. Their face looks funny. I don't like the sound". Bingo.
I didn't give her instructions on what to do when someone wails after that. I stopped talking to her and just looked at her face a while. We made eye contact. Such a gift. So neat to look into dark eyes that stay connected to mine, when so often they do not. I spoke with my eyes to her. I said, "I love you". But what I meant to say was, "Oh man, how I love you, even more then I realized I could ever. You kill me. You, with your little ability to live in the world and remain unaffected by all that surrounds you, never change. Always be this way. I think maybe you are onto something... and if I could, I'd be exactly like you, my little Martian, my stranger, my familiar foreigner".
Today I looked up 100 ways to say I Love You in different languages.
Wo ai ni - Mandarin
M 'bi fe - Bambara
Te sakam - Macedonian
Volim te - Serbian
Thank God for you - Aspergerian
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