Mice Elves, Cross Country

Jon Chaiim McConnell

He waits until around Missouri to ask me what it’s like to have found myselves. I tell him that when he says it so quick like that it sounds like “mice elves,” and then I tell him the truth. That to know I’m not just me is fantastically grounding and gets me out of bed with a mind to agree to do things like this, ready to drive some strange and individual boy across the country on the whim of his mother, a family friend. Everyone is someones, she’d told me. Everyone in this country at least. My sister had called her a few days ago, breathless from the hospital bed, with a need to announce that her new baby and this boy now in the car just seemed so much the same that if they didn’t meet right away we’d be doing irreparable harm to the both of them. My sister lives in California and, well, I’m the one with a car.

     I tell the boy not to get so moody about things he can’t control, and that it should be nice to be his kind of alone. His condition got him a segment on 60 Minutes which was pretty interesting to watch. Being maybe the only boy on the East Coast not to have found himselves by eleven years old made him famous…

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