I’m reminded of “Lolita” where Humbert Humbert
Talked of his obsession (so exquisite)
And argued there’s an unspoiled retreat in her mind
That he will never be allowed to visit.
There’s a similar garden inside my autistic son’s head
Which entering I’m often denied
But sometimes the wrought iron gate there swings open
And I’m allowed a glimpse inside.
While watching a PBS show on aging, I asked:
“Jeremy --- am I young or old?”
“Old,” he said without the slightest hesitation.
His attitude added I was told
This with utmost certitude --- Jeremy had
Absolutely not a single shred of doubt.
Thanks, kiddo, for weighing in on this …
And straightening your old man out.