Normal

How many Minnesota winters did I stare through that iced car window, too?

Searching out, into those gray days, when the darkness hits you at 4pm.

But he looks out at the strip malls of South Saint Paul.

At the rows of houses cloaked in the January snow, much closer together

and sometimes boarded up or replaced by a vacant lot.

We stop at his mailbox, but not before he tells us that he is scared to go back to school.

Because last semester he got so frustrated by feeling misunderstood

he broke a statue in the counselor’s office.

Because although going back reacquaints him with the few friends he has,

it also reminds him of their mobility, of the things his parents don’t allow him to do.

He may have Asperger’s, but these facts hit him hard, like the winter darkness, and saturate his days.

He hesitantly unbuckles himself, asking my friend to call him up, so they can hang out.

She says of course, but sounds distant.

I wanted to tell him I, too, know that feeling of powerlessness,

of feeling suffocated,

of wanting to break something.

But we waved goodbye through the blurred windows and took 94W back to the city,

our mobility so normal, so easy for us.