Yes, I am up...I am up and thinking of a boy that I have missed for so very long...
A young boy who clung to me and my every word...
He was so shy then
The beautiful boy who thought that I was the funniest Mom EVER.....
Forever asking me to do routines written just for him, over and over.
We didn't have DVDS in back seats then
Mom WAS the entertainment
Nothing made me happier than to make him laugh
These were games just for him, while he rode in his chariot in the back seat
As he laughed, a deep and guttural sound came all the way down from his toes
He used to crawl up on my back and we would watch our favorite TV shows together
We don't like the same television shows anymore
I'm looking for my little travel companion of so many years ago
Where is he?
This must be some cruel act of nature
I'm not laughing
My sweet little caretaker when on occasion I was sick..
So excited to "get to make me" some hot orange tea
He brought it to me beaming from ear to ear
For years we traveled together to see such wondrous sights
Riding the wild rides
Laughing at improvisational troupes in New York
He loved to laugh
Where is that splendid laugh? I almost don't remember it...
Our hands hurt from all of the applauding at our favorite Broadway shows
Over Mountains, Oceans, Unknown Rivers, we explored together
Suddenly one day it came to a HALT
There were no sirens, no loud warnings
On some of our travels, towards the end, he wanted to go home
He wanted to hang out with his friends
Oh, and could we please not be away for holidays anymore?
He preferred them at home
Could he PALEEEESSSSEEE stay home during a school break instead of ALWAYS having to go away?!?
Not long after, there was a voice that emerged from him
A voice I didn't recognize.....This couldn't be his voice...Who was it?
It was sprinkled with DEFIANCE, and quick to ANGER...
A voice that didn't speak as much, but when it did, and when it angered , it was LOUD
As though THUNDER had surrounded the room
Patton had NOTHING on this kid
Now when I try to make him laugh, he tells me that I am not funny...
He finds my "humor" even CRUEL....
When I speak to him, at some point he will turn his head and say "What are you saying?"
Pushed into a corner WAY before my time
Where is my little friend?
Where is my son?
One time awhile back, a friend heard him speak to me over the phone
He had not seen him for a long time
He asked, "Who is that? Surely that can't be your son...Where is the nice, sweet boy?"
I told him that he was gone...
I hadn't seen him for quite awhile
I will never forget him, though
The BEST times of my life
I wonder if I knew that then?