#55 - 60 100 Drabbles of Summer
52. Cook Out
It seems almost counter intuitive to light a fire in the middle of summer. That's what people do though, in the heat and the humid of summer they all get together and light a big fire in order to cook. Delia loves bbq's, getting together with friends and having good conversation with some good food.
Atlas is five years old, sitting on his mothers lap when his father sets down a plate in front of them. He goes for the hot dog first, he always does. Completely plain he bites into it bun and all. "Yummmm."
53. Photos
It's raining. I can smell it, feel it, see it against the windows of the upstairs bedroom. It looks like rain, gray skies, wet, dark. Why does it rain when we experience a loss? There are poems, songs, stories about rain and loss, they just seem intrinsically linked in our subconscious.
On the guest bedroom we go through pictures, my son and I. Big albums that were put together when there was no loss. Family photos, family stories. He points and asks who that is even though he knows. It's okay to ask.
54. Broken Clock
He was angry so he broke the clock. He was full of pain and rage that comes with every full moon so he tore away from me and grabbed the closest thing that wasn't secured down. Once a month he screams, he kicks and he bites and scratches. Once a month we try and keep him calm and let him work through what lives inside of him.
There is nothing I can do.
He hurts, and he hurts others because he hurts and there is nothing I can do. There is nothing I can do, that kills me.
55. Red Lantern
Standing in the thick crowd, he sits on his father's shoulders and watches the parade pass by. It's Chinese New Years but that hardly matters to the little boy watching the dancing dragons and the marchers passing by. Catching the parade is a complete accident, we were out buying groceries when Atlas spots the crowd. He loves the colors and the noise of it.
Except the fireworks then he puts his hands over his ears as best he can while his dad keeps a good grip on him.
"Did you see that mommy? Did you?"
"Yes, sweetness, I did."
56. Paths
He's moving slower these days, his hair is grayer even though he dyes it in an attempt to hide it from people who don't need to know. We walk together, my arm linked in his as Atlas pushes himself on his little bike. He rolls over the uneven stones and keeps his legs out to catch himself as he rides in front of us. At times, he stops and looks back just to make sure we are there, and we are, together, there.
Not for long, not both of us anyway, knowing hurts.
"I love you, boy."
"Love you, papa."
57. Dandelion seeds
"You pick them," he picks the weed from the grass and holds it out in front of them. "You blow and you make a wish, if you can blow all of the seeds off your wish will come true."
Little fingers reach out and try to touch the seeds as Lawrence explains the situation. "We'll do it together," he tells the boy and looks over at him forming his mouth into an 'o' shape.
"Ready?" Atlas tries to mimic the look, tries to.
"One, two, three, blow." The seeds fly mainly due to Lawrence's breath, Atlas wishes it anyway.
58. Ferris Wheel
We visit my mom for her birthday, back in Chicago. There is more gray hair in the birthday photo this year then I remember in previous years. The only life is in Atlas who still gets excited when the birthday cake is brought out (he thinks it's for him).
The Ferris Wheel at Navy Pier has always scared the shit out of me. The two of them coax me on to it.
"I'll hold your had," the little boy tells me, and he does.
Looking out over lake Michigan we enjoy ourselves in the cool air, and lights.
59. Fishing
"I'm going to teach the boy how to fish." Early morning, listening to the sounds of the house and the outside. His words make me smile.
"Why are you going to teach him how to fish?"
"A boy should know how to fish."
"Mmmmm, do you know how to fish?"
"Well."
I start to laugh because it seems so cute and so silly all at the same time. The huff of indignation that comes from his side of the bed makes me roll over to find his mouth.
"You two can learn together, how about that, Alpha?"
"Mmm," he rumbles. "I like that."
60. Frog
He brings home things that have no place in a home, my home. Things he finds on the ground or when he's exploring with his father. He's at that age where things aren't really icky to him. Tadpoles, fish, birds, mice. I used to have a cat that did the same thing, little tokens of love. Something that says: "look what I did! Aren't you proud of me?" Well of course I am proud of him but there's nothing wrong with a picture on the fridge instead of a face full of animal.
Just sayin'.
It seems almost counter intuitive to light a fire in the middle of summer. That's what people do though, in the heat and the humid of summer they all get together and light a big fire in order to cook. Delia loves bbq's, getting together with friends and having good conversation with some good food.
Atlas is five years old, sitting on his mothers lap when his father sets down a plate in front of them. He goes for the hot dog first, he always does. Completely plain he bites into it bun and all. "Yummmm."
53. Photos
It's raining. I can smell it, feel it, see it against the windows of the upstairs bedroom. It looks like rain, gray skies, wet, dark. Why does it rain when we experience a loss? There are poems, songs, stories about rain and loss, they just seem intrinsically linked in our subconscious.
On the guest bedroom we go through pictures, my son and I. Big albums that were put together when there was no loss. Family photos, family stories. He points and asks who that is even though he knows. It's okay to ask.
54. Broken Clock
He was angry so he broke the clock. He was full of pain and rage that comes with every full moon so he tore away from me and grabbed the closest thing that wasn't secured down. Once a month he screams, he kicks and he bites and scratches. Once a month we try and keep him calm and let him work through what lives inside of him.
There is nothing I can do.
He hurts, and he hurts others because he hurts and there is nothing I can do. There is nothing I can do, that kills me.
55. Red Lantern
Standing in the thick crowd, he sits on his father's shoulders and watches the parade pass by. It's Chinese New Years but that hardly matters to the little boy watching the dancing dragons and the marchers passing by. Catching the parade is a complete accident, we were out buying groceries when Atlas spots the crowd. He loves the colors and the noise of it.
Except the fireworks then he puts his hands over his ears as best he can while his dad keeps a good grip on him.
"Did you see that mommy? Did you?"
"Yes, sweetness, I did."
56. Paths
He's moving slower these days, his hair is grayer even though he dyes it in an attempt to hide it from people who don't need to know. We walk together, my arm linked in his as Atlas pushes himself on his little bike. He rolls over the uneven stones and keeps his legs out to catch himself as he rides in front of us. At times, he stops and looks back just to make sure we are there, and we are, together, there.
Not for long, not both of us anyway, knowing hurts.
"I love you, boy."
"Love you, papa."
57. Dandelion seeds
"You pick them," he picks the weed from the grass and holds it out in front of them. "You blow and you make a wish, if you can blow all of the seeds off your wish will come true."
Little fingers reach out and try to touch the seeds as Lawrence explains the situation. "We'll do it together," he tells the boy and looks over at him forming his mouth into an 'o' shape.
"Ready?" Atlas tries to mimic the look, tries to.
"One, two, three, blow." The seeds fly mainly due to Lawrence's breath, Atlas wishes it anyway.
58. Ferris Wheel
We visit my mom for her birthday, back in Chicago. There is more gray hair in the birthday photo this year then I remember in previous years. The only life is in Atlas who still gets excited when the birthday cake is brought out (he thinks it's for him).
The Ferris Wheel at Navy Pier has always scared the shit out of me. The two of them coax me on to it.
"I'll hold your had," the little boy tells me, and he does.
Looking out over lake Michigan we enjoy ourselves in the cool air, and lights.
59. Fishing
"I'm going to teach the boy how to fish." Early morning, listening to the sounds of the house and the outside. His words make me smile.
"Why are you going to teach him how to fish?"
"A boy should know how to fish."
"Mmmmm, do you know how to fish?"
"Well."
I start to laugh because it seems so cute and so silly all at the same time. The huff of indignation that comes from his side of the bed makes me roll over to find his mouth.
"You two can learn together, how about that, Alpha?"
"Mmm," he rumbles. "I like that."
60. Frog
He brings home things that have no place in a home, my home. Things he finds on the ground or when he's exploring with his father. He's at that age where things aren't really icky to him. Tadpoles, fish, birds, mice. I used to have a cat that did the same thing, little tokens of love. Something that says: "look what I did! Aren't you proud of me?" Well of course I am proud of him but there's nothing wrong with a picture on the fridge instead of a face full of animal.
Just sayin'.