I wasn’t here today. Not really. I mean, I sorted through huge mounds of rotting vegetable matter with that horrible solid stench of rot made worse because you can smell the once delicious scent behind it and that horrible texture of solid things becoming lose and pouring out of themselves.
I did also have a secret and solitary dance party in the afternoon, hoping no one came in, but letting the fear of discovery add to the fun. But really, I wasn’t here.
Today I was in my head. In my thoughts about thoughts about thinking and in my memories. Half blind, I went through my day taking note of almost nothing that passed. I kept remembering James. For no reason, I remembered him.
About a year before this, I’d been working in an after-school daycare program and Summer camp. In addition to all of my other duties, my job was to stay by James’ side and help him take part in every activity. Kind of silently, self-effacingly, getting him involved as fully as I could imagine.
He had a small list of diagnoses that I was supposed to remember, but these annoyed me as I felt they often got in the way of treating him as a person. So I can tell you he had severe autism and two other things just like that, but I don’t even remember the fancy acronyms. As I said, they annoyed me.
What didn’t annoy me was the boy. I came to love him some. We became friends.
I had no reason to be thinking of him today; none I could figure out, but I thought a lot of him and the way he called me “Mi’-uh”
I remembered his white teeth, his blond hair, and blue often red-rimmed eyes. I remembered the helmet and leash he was sometimes forced to wear and how both of us seemed to agree it was a bit of an indignity.
I met his Dad once at a Halloween party and they guy came straight up to me, beaming, to shake my hand. “He loves you, man.”
One day, he had an accident and crapped himself at camp. I had to help him clean himself up. I started gagging and dry heaving and James giggled high and loud in between pretty accurate imitations of my almost barfing.
When the end of camp came, we were supposed to give every kid an award. I was working with the 5 year old boys and the two autistic kids, and I know they need a lot of praise and building up, but even so, the idea of giving everyone an award bothered me a little. But instead of abstaining and giving no one an award, and instead of giving everyone a little cookie cutter, I decided to give everyone something really accurate and personal.
James got Most Popular, and everyone was very happy to agree that it was true. I felt like with James I got a preview of what it will be like to love my own son someday.
I miss him, and I wonder how he is and if he even remembers me. I wondered if I could become his friend, but there is such a suspicion in that industry of a single male continuing his friendship with a child. The whole thing is dehumanizing and sad.
Now, at the end of the day, shaking, I am so tired, I wait to unload Denis’ truck which is not coming back to the farm until about two in the morning because it broke down.
Ten Years Ago Today 
I liked reading this posting. It fell somewhere between sentimental and melancholy, and made me want to know where James is now.
Thanks for saying so. I wonder where he is now too. He’d be in his early twenties now, and in state programs that in the one way protect him and help him have a more full life, but in other ways totally limit him and prevent him from having interaction with anyone who is not being paid to interact with him.