I fell in love with your father when I was twenty-five and you were about a year old. How he was with you, his tenderness and devotion, the way he held you; all of these things helped put stars in my eyes when I looked at him. When we moved in together, your dad and I created a little boy’s bedroom, for when you were staying with us. I bought a crayon bedspread and a toy box, and scoured thrift stores to fill your room with toys I thought you’d like.
At bedtime, I’d read books to you to help you fall asleep. Your favorite was Dr. Seuss’ Fox in Socks because the way I would read the tongue twister about the beetle battle, out-of-breath and dramatic, always cracked you up. You loved lining up your Matchbox cars in one long row, and I hung an old first-aid cabinet on the wall of your bedroom at kid-height so that you could store all of your treasures. When any of my jewelry went missing, I always knew I could find it tucked away there.
You were a funny kid; even at 2 years old you were one of the funniest people I’d ever met. Once, when I was making lunch for you I asked, “Do you want cheese on your sandwich?” “What kind of cheese?” you suspiciously asked. “American,” I said. You made a face, put up your little hand and sang, to the tune of American Woman, “American Chee-eese! Stay away from me-ee!”
One morning, you woke up very early, before anyone else was awake, and dumped five pounds of flour and a liter of cooking oil on the coffee table, then drove your little cars all through it. Hours later, when you’d gone back to your mom’s house, my annoyance melted when I found your tiny oily footprint on a piece of paper that I’d somehow overlooked during the cleanup.
Your heroes were Jackie Chan, Bruce Lee, and your dad. You looked like the best features of your mom and dad combined. You had a pink blanket and a teddy bear that you sniffed when you were sleepy.
Your father and I were together for four and a half years. The last year was agony for both of us as we tried and failed to get through the things that were breaking us apart. The thought of leaving two of the people I loved best in the world was painful beyond imagination, but finally it felt inevitable.
Eight years later, I still think of you daily. You’re growing up, almost 13 years old, and I’ve missed so much of your life. My chest feels tight realizing that you can’t possibly remember the bedtime stories, or the time I dressed you like a pirate for Halloween, or when we made bunny rabbit flowerpots at Easter.
I want to say that I’m sorry, D. There was nothing wrong with you; you were perfect. When I left, it was not you I let go, but the dream I had of being not a mother, but something like a mother. I held that dream on my finger like an eyelash and blew it back into the world; making a wish I knew could never come true.
As I cry…….this is so sweet and so sad. Any kid that comes in your presence, instantly loves you.
I think we read books alike.
“where the wild things are” is the best!
By: Amy on December 5, 2007
at 9:33 pm
Aww I miss him too! He was soo adorable. My fave story of him is the one where he saw the phone where you could talk into it to call someone and he said “call Jackie Chan”. I laughed so hard when you told me that story. I can’t believe he’d be 13 now! Crazy
By: teetle on December 6, 2007
at 1:04 am
you think he was funny than? I have to have a meeting with his science teacher on Fri. He is at a catholic school now, bit more strict than good ol’ cps, his teacher mentioned a show she used to watch every morning as a kid. And the boy asked if it was “good mornig Pangea.” Yeah that’l be an easy meeting to keep a straight face during.You’re beautiful heather, your words always ring sincere beyond any others. I’m glad you remember it as lovingly as I do. Find the kid on myspace, He wants to talk to you, think you can find him through brants friends.
By: john on December 6, 2007
at 9:05 am
“Good morning Pangea,” holy crap, John. I could not go to that meeting. I can’t believe he’s IN TROUBLE for that, I’d skip him a grade if I were the teacher.
By: heatherinparadise on December 6, 2007
at 9:10 am
Freaky — just the other day I ran across a picture of D. holding H. when he was an infant. Also, if I remember correctly I have a photo of that pirate costume — that was from the same Halloween as my myspace profile pic…
And I agree completely — throwing out obscure “Dinosaurs” references at 13 deserves praise, not punishment!
By: scott on December 6, 2007
at 4:42 pm
Wow. I can understand that one. From a different angle.
By: Roads on December 6, 2007
at 5:33 pm
James transposting…
Don’t be so sure about those “missing” memories. They are there, and he feels them, I’d wager.
By: Julie A. on December 7, 2007
at 6:58 pm
Oh, Heather, how sweet and sad. And yes, you’d be surprised what he remembers. Gray remembers stuff from when he was under two – that’s a fact.
And the Good Morning Pangea is hysterical.
)
By: Julie A. on December 7, 2007
at 9:02 pm
So beautiful, Heather. The love you showed that boy for those years live inside him and help make him a part of who he is. Children know love.
By: charmarie221 on December 8, 2007
at 3:08 pm
You seem a very special person Heather….I suspect they were both lucky to have you for awhile.
By: Jacko on December 21, 2007
at 8:04 pm
lovely.
favorite D story: the time you guys got on a CTA bus and he said “hi” to every passenger then said “my man!” to an african american passenger while offering his palm so the guy could give him five! i tell that story to this day.
cannot believe he’s 13 already.
By: Liane on December 23, 2007
at 6:00 am
Oh, yeah! That’s one of my favorites, too. He is such a funny kid. Once, while his dad was driving him home from school, they were stopped at a stoplight and a short school bus pulled up. Darius looked over and said, “Hey dad, bet that’s gotta bring back some memories.”
By: heatherinparadise on December 23, 2007
at 11:19 am
Heather- This is a WONDERFUL entry — thoughtful, wistful, and valuable.
By: Weave on January 16, 2008
at 3:32 pm
This is beautiful, Heather. Simply beautiful.
By: Trisha on January 24, 2008
at 11:26 pm
[...] me sob uncontrollably. (About a Boy) Aww, thanks, Michele. I have considered trying to send out that particular entry, perhaps to a Mother’s Day Essay [...]
By: Personal Blogs - Page 25 - www.Playa.info on February 27, 2008
at 1:15 pm
Hey, that was sure cool. I am sitting here with tears in my eyes about all the kids that I’ve loved and left. Too many that is for sure. My first real live step daughter would be about 30 right now, and I think of her often, but lost track of her 20 years ago. She was really beautiful and loved. My last sweetie, I spent 9 years with him, and absolutely the reason we had a second date was the way he loved his daughter. I thought if he could love me a fraction of that, I’d be set. well, he did teach me a lot, but alas, not what I was looking for either. did keep him and her in my life, I think I’ll give them a call. Thanks Heather. Just when I think I have not being a mom under control…..
By: margoinmexico on May 10, 2010
at 6:52 pm
Thanks, Margo. xoxo
By: heatherinparadise on May 25, 2010
at 2:32 pm