Tonight I'm thinking of human children as small animals raised in the packs we call families who eventually grow up and set out on their own. They seek out new territory, interact with members of strange other packs, meet potential mates, and start new packs of their own. In this respect, I feel like I've gone feral. I have friends and in that sense I have a pack of my own, but it's more like I have my own territory (my house) and we venture into common social areas to visit and provide emotional respite. I forget what it's like to have people living in close proximity to me, in my territory. I forget how satisfying it is to let your guard down, to learn and teach from each other, to provide the type of companionship that only time and familiarity make possible. When I visit our family's territory, curl up with a pack member or two, and we take the time to lick each other's metaphorical wounds, I realize how much I miss it.
Today was a great day. I got here before lunch and my dad and I sat under the big pecan tree in our front yard and waved to everyone as they drove home from church. We had the opportunity to politely decline some Jehovah's witnesses and we listened to old timey music on Pandora. My dad sang along, something that feels like a miracle, even to someone who doesn't believe in the miraculous. Keegan and I made lunch together, and I realized how easy it is to fall into a back and forth with a kid. He served as my guide to how things are done around here (I haven't lived here in 14 years, so sometimes I really don't know), telling me how Dad likes his hot dogs and where the apple corer was. I supervised his use of the stove and taught him how to spread mayonnaise. I've never really thought about how scooping and spreading something so squishy is actually a challenge in dexterity if you've never done it before. Obviously he mastered it easily, but doing something with him reminds me of how much we all have to learn about the world and how it works and how to make it work for us. It also helps that he's just so damned awesome. Whatever you ask of him, he does, so while you're handling one task, he'll handle whatever bits and pieces you can give him.
Dad, Keegan, and I took a long walk, decked out in hats and coated in sunscreen. Keegan rode his bike in front of us, scouting the territory and reporting back, I pushed my dad in his chair, and my dad carried the enormous container of ice water we took along to keep us all from collapsing. We spent the time following deer tracks and looking at water in creeks and listening to birds and just generally enjoying being alive in such a beautiful place. At one point we watched a small mother and her fawn cross the road in front of us. We were talking the whole time, but she didn't seem frightened of us at all, just calm and quiet. We also managed to get my dad stuck a few times, which amused my nephew to no end. It turns out that when you get stuck in a patch of sand, the best thing to do is just back the hell out. The small wheels on the front of the wheelchair are no help at all.
We all took a nice afternoon nap, enjoyed a delicious meal my sister and Kevin made, and then Keegan I drew hopscotch grids and played. We do this occasionally, and he never remembers the layout of the grid, but today he did it right the first time all by himself. His first grid was a little jankie, so I showed him some tricks for squaring things up and making sure you don't go all sideways. His second grid was pretty kickass. He's also gotten a lot better at the game. We added a second stone tonight, so I guess you could say we're level II hopscotch players. Now he's cleaned up, with all the sunblock and dirt washed off, and reading before bedtime. I can hear the Stuart Little coming from his bedroom, his little kid voice alternating between a clear stream of words and a mumble, backing up, starting and stopping. It's like you can hear his brain working. He's in there learning to read right now. It's incredible.
I'm not saying all this because I think whoever's reading this cares. I'm writing it all so I won't forget, so I remember to appreciate it when I'm not here. So I don't forget that while I'm not with them, I'm missing all this growing up and growing older. It's also just amazing to me that somehow living by itself can sometimes be so satisfying. Nothing incredible happened today, no crazy good news, nothing extreme, just a good, simple, joyful day spent in the company of people I love who love me back. I spoke to a friend of mine at Art Bar last night, and we had a conversation about this, how when you run into someone you haven't seen in a while, they ask how you are, and you say, "Fine," and then there's nothing else to say. It feels odd, but the good times in life are often simple. He got new tires on his car, I got a new lawn mower. We decided to not feel pressured to deliver on big news. We are living in the moments between the moments and we are happy.
Today was a great day. I got here before lunch and my dad and I sat under the big pecan tree in our front yard and waved to everyone as they drove home from church. We had the opportunity to politely decline some Jehovah's witnesses and we listened to old timey music on Pandora. My dad sang along, something that feels like a miracle, even to someone who doesn't believe in the miraculous. Keegan and I made lunch together, and I realized how easy it is to fall into a back and forth with a kid. He served as my guide to how things are done around here (I haven't lived here in 14 years, so sometimes I really don't know), telling me how Dad likes his hot dogs and where the apple corer was. I supervised his use of the stove and taught him how to spread mayonnaise. I've never really thought about how scooping and spreading something so squishy is actually a challenge in dexterity if you've never done it before. Obviously he mastered it easily, but doing something with him reminds me of how much we all have to learn about the world and how it works and how to make it work for us. It also helps that he's just so damned awesome. Whatever you ask of him, he does, so while you're handling one task, he'll handle whatever bits and pieces you can give him.
Dad, Keegan, and I took a long walk, decked out in hats and coated in sunscreen. Keegan rode his bike in front of us, scouting the territory and reporting back, I pushed my dad in his chair, and my dad carried the enormous container of ice water we took along to keep us all from collapsing. We spent the time following deer tracks and looking at water in creeks and listening to birds and just generally enjoying being alive in such a beautiful place. At one point we watched a small mother and her fawn cross the road in front of us. We were talking the whole time, but she didn't seem frightened of us at all, just calm and quiet. We also managed to get my dad stuck a few times, which amused my nephew to no end. It turns out that when you get stuck in a patch of sand, the best thing to do is just back the hell out. The small wheels on the front of the wheelchair are no help at all.
We all took a nice afternoon nap, enjoyed a delicious meal my sister and Kevin made, and then Keegan I drew hopscotch grids and played. We do this occasionally, and he never remembers the layout of the grid, but today he did it right the first time all by himself. His first grid was a little jankie, so I showed him some tricks for squaring things up and making sure you don't go all sideways. His second grid was pretty kickass. He's also gotten a lot better at the game. We added a second stone tonight, so I guess you could say we're level II hopscotch players. Now he's cleaned up, with all the sunblock and dirt washed off, and reading before bedtime. I can hear the Stuart Little coming from his bedroom, his little kid voice alternating between a clear stream of words and a mumble, backing up, starting and stopping. It's like you can hear his brain working. He's in there learning to read right now. It's incredible.
I'm not saying all this because I think whoever's reading this cares. I'm writing it all so I won't forget, so I remember to appreciate it when I'm not here. So I don't forget that while I'm not with them, I'm missing all this growing up and growing older. It's also just amazing to me that somehow living by itself can sometimes be so satisfying. Nothing incredible happened today, no crazy good news, nothing extreme, just a good, simple, joyful day spent in the company of people I love who love me back. I spoke to a friend of mine at Art Bar last night, and we had a conversation about this, how when you run into someone you haven't seen in a while, they ask how you are, and you say, "Fine," and then there's nothing else to say. It feels odd, but the good times in life are often simple. He got new tires on his car, I got a new lawn mower. We decided to not feel pressured to deliver on big news. We are living in the moments between the moments and we are happy.
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