Dearest Rachel –
Evenings at the house, if they weren’t falling into something of a routine, and thereby likely to be considered to be ‘normal,’ are, I suspect, anything but that, when observed objectively. While it’s understandable that the boys would hang out together – and that I should stay out of their way, much like the two of us used to back in the day (nothing spoils an evening with friends as much as one’s parents wanting to be a part of the ‘fun’) – I almost feel as if I’ve become estranged from my son right under my own roof.
To be sure, were we of a generation previous, he would long since have been out on his own (Asperger’s or not, since that would have likely gone undiagnosed), and there would be physical distance between us, resulting in much more social distance than we already have, but given our current proximity, it feels… off. As it is, when the two of them set themselves up in the family room, I retreat to the bedroom, but I leave both doors open. Ironically, I’m orders of magnitude more likely to see Logan come by now and again, as he will do his own laundry (not that I’m complaining about Daniel not doing his – again, under a single roof, it makes more sense for the two of us to throw in together on various loads), and Daniel, for whatever reason, will always go upstairs to use the washroom rather than venturing by the master bathroom (although he will come downstairs to wash his hands, under the apprehension that the sink upstairs leaks, despite the fact that I’ve seen no evidence of that recently. Then again, it can’t leak if it’s not being used, now, can it?).
But Logan only comes so near as to the adjacent rooms, and mostly to deal with his own needs on his own. I’m not required in his equation, and I wouldn’t expect to be – there’s a good report I could send back to his parents about him. And with neither of the boys requiring my presence or input, despite the fact that I’ve left both the doors to what is, essentially, ‘my’ room (how I hate thinking of it like that! I know I use it all the time – three times already since putting up that parentheses – but I hate using first person plural. But it’s what my life is, and all I can tell you about), it’s as walled-off and secure from them as if it were a fortress.
Theoretically, I don’t have to exist like this, I know. I could hang out with them in the evenings, and they wouldn’t shoo me away. However – and I realize this is a.) an assumption on my part, and b.) something I’ve told you many times over already, even in this very letter – it doesn’t feel right to infringe upon their time together. I could stay home during the day, in order to be with Daniel more often – it isn’t as if I have to ‘bring home the bacon,’ as we have a smokehouse stocked with a lifetime’s worth of the stuff. But I think Daniel’s used to having the days to himself – or at least, accustomed to me going off to the ‘office’ on a regular basis – and while it’s demonstrably futile for me to set an example of it for him, I need to keep myself productive by going to some form of ‘work’ (it’s difficult to be so at home – most rooms have one form of distraction or another; I can see why it was so difficult for you to do chores around the house, with so many other, more enjoyable things at hand to do all the time. How could you possibly focus?)
Then again, it seems that the most externally productive thing I do in a given day – especially given that I manage, improbably, to do it nearly every day since you’ve been gone – is this letter to you, and that generally gets taken care of first thing in the morning, before I head off to ‘work’ (or even so much as have breakfast!), so that seems to be a moot point. To be sure, if one were to read these letters aloud, they wouldn’t amount to much – at best, maybe ten minutes of one-sided conversation, however well-organized they might be in comparison to a real discussion.
Now, you might ask about those dreams of mine of creating a YouTube channel – what happened to that? Would you be disappointed in me, or just sad on my behalf, to note that I’ve let that slip out of my hands, even as I attend to keeping you informed of what’s been going on since you left this world? I’m not sure that’s necessary. The more I think about it, the more I struggled to come up with a reason to do so. Sure, I may have had a few good ideas – and I may have even gotten Daniel and Erin excited about the possibility, a few years before any of us would have be free to do so (you remember that discussion at Brandy’s after the last night of Awana some four and a half years ago) – but the rigors of coming up with interesting content day after day is quite the challenge in and of itself (that much, I can confirm!); add to that the artwork that I’ve determined to be well outside of my abilities, and the fact that anything I might come up with has been done better by other people (although admittedly, I have yet to come across a channel that’s done a mock-serious look at the Nacirema tribe – which may be because it was one of my weaker ideas in the first place; you certainly seemed to think so), and there’s little point to it. Even the prospect of establishing parasocial relationships through it seems pointless, as I’ve demonstrated my maladroitness in that field, between social media at large and the dating app in particular.
So what’s the point in going to the ‘office,’ when I ought to be staying home with Daniel, especially if I’m so concerned about our relationship? Well…
There are other things that need to be taken care of, even if they don’t fill a nine-to-five day. The folks seem to appreciate my being there, even if I’m buried in what little I’m doing in their basement (and thus, out of their way) most of the time, like a cloistered monk; I’m at least on call for those few hours. I still demonstrate the need to get outside and do something; it’s up to Daniel to take the hint and do likewise. I can’t (and shouldn’t have to) spell out everything he ought to be doing – especially when the benefits are harder to articulate than that of a mere paycheck (indeed, you can see I’m struggling to explain them to you even now). Maybe he’ll be able to put two and two together, even though I can’t do his addition homework for him. Or maybe, this will simply add up to us spending most of our time in our various turrets of the same castle; so close, and yet so far away.
For now, honey, all I can ask is for you to keep an eye on each of us, and wish us luck. We’re both going to need it.
Letters to Rachel 