The Dove

Jonathan had had an awful morning. “Rocking and shrieking more than usual, it’s exasperating ….” his mother claims "Of course, you can take him to the Picasso show, but by bus?” She wonders how he’ll cope with a bus, far less an art gallery, however Sandie is a genuine saint, ignores his autistic tendencies and the irresistible offer is gladly accepted.

His little body moving rhythmically, as he follows Sandie into a wonderfully light and orderly space of the gallery. Jonathan’s shoulders noticeably relax as he senses the peace. He glances around the art work and is drawn to the painting – a sombre little child with short ginger hair, dressed in white and tenderly clutching a dove. Her doleful eyes meet Jonathan’s, she moves then sweeps OUT of the painting and calmly lands by his side.

“You’re sad!” Jonathan blurts out, while Sandie wanders off to some other creations.

“Mother wants me to wear a dress!”

“Oh”

“I like trousers and playing dragons”

With a gentle, contemplative expression, she continues, “Dove is my friend. I tell him everything. He helped me chop off all my hair and tie my boots and now he promises to choose me a friend.”

“I don’t have friends”

The child calmy proffers the dove towards Jonathan encouraging him to stroke the soft, velvety feathers. Jonathan obliges cradling his fingers around the lightness of the plump body.

“He’s happy! He likes you” whispers the child “Please can you be my friend ?”

Jonathan sees something in the child, feels something reflective, different from adults, realises he’s understood and accepted for what he is. She knows and she can get through to him.

“Yeah ….I’m a friend.” Jonathan jabbers.

“Oh great – let’s get Dove to fly. No one will see.”

Jonathan opens his small hands, so frequently stiff, yet now relaxed and controlled as Dove deftly swifts off and perches on a high hung mirror. The bird appears to recognise himself, bobs his small head back and forth and coos towards Jonathan.

“He’s calling you – he wants you to go with him!”

Jonathan, entranced, follows and is captivated by the melancholy whistles. He stares into the dove’s large iridescent eyes.

“Oh he wants you to have your own dove! I have Dove so I can be who I want! He thinks about things, argues with me, cares for me, gives me freedom, power and love and YES you must have your own dove – that’s it!” the child excitedly claims.

She wistfully goes over to Dove, reaches up and wraps him affectionally in her arms once again. With a passive and knowing expression she quietly whispers to Jonathan

“Your special dove will be your soulmate and bring you tranquillity and harmony” and, at that, she WHOOSHES back into the painting.

Later, once they’re home, Mother agrees with Sandie, “a dove is an interesting suggestion. As you know Jonathan has never asked for anything in his entire life!”