Mums2009
He is this adorable little child. His teacher calls him Charlie Brown. But he isn’t Charlie Brown, he is something else. I don’t see him as hapless or pathetic and sometimes Charlie Brown really kind of is. He is all boy. In every way. He fits the stereotype of a boy too. He will not willingly show signs of affection, he is embarrassed by my outward expressions, my heart on my sleeve, all emotions bared, all the way. But there is a little spark there, that makes me smile every time. The kid is in a word, terrific.
He acts like he doesn’t like me, won’t let it show that he does. He cannot risk the embarrassment of it. I tell him if I lived next door to him I would be like his granny I would make him chocolate chip cookies and give him milk. He tells me he is not a baby, and I say neither am I, but boy I love chocolate chip cookies and milk. He tells me to be quiet and leave him alone, but a few minutes later, when everyone’s attention is on their drawings, he calls me over and tells me Ms. Gregory, I don’t like chocolate chip but I do like peanut butter. Okay I say, if we ever live next door to each other and your Mom says it’s okay, you can come over for peanut butter cookies and chocolate milk.
In other places the signs of affection are there…I see it in the actions of someone who has my attention. I look, I listen and I wait, and in a small note a sign of an affection has me smiling, with all the little words that pass between us the dawn slowly brightens on the horizon. A friendship is blooming and it is a flower of some simplicity and beauty that only the discerning eye can see. A friendship is all it is, but there is a spark there that makes me smile every time. He is in a word really awesome.
And to others whose overt displays leave me grinning, a sense of unconditional love, the blood of blood feeling, we know who we are and are comfortable with it. The warm embrace and the enfolding of my heart into theirs, like a fire burning brightly on a grey stone hearth, a soft guitar playing, a twang of banjo and the cool slur of a Hawaiian guitar, mens voices sing and an old man tells a story while ice and whiskey swirls in the smokey haze, knitting needles clicking. I look at your face and I smile from ear to ear, and in your face a mirror of my own. You tell me you love me again and again, and I know it as true as I am born and live. I love you back. Family - there is a spark there and we know it and it makes us smile every time. You are in a word wonderful.
I lay in my bed and I can feel myself strong on the inside and the outside. Oh this has been a difficult trail to be sure. And some days the blisters do fester so…I hate them, I cherish them. I wrap my arms around my pillow, I do not kiss it or hug it or tell it my secrets. I feel my self in my heart, in all my extremities I feel who I am in the deepest part of my being and I feel the Brahmin in the universe. There is a spark there, I know it. I smile knowingly every time. I am in a word content.
