That Boy

Hunter S. Thompson killed himself on Kurt Cobain's birthday, when I was pregnant with my first child, on the day the men came to fix the air conditioner. Only one of them knew who he was. I ate tostadas and talked to my stomach. He knew who Kurt Cobain was, at least.

When they brought that boy into my room the nurses started talking but I couldn't hear them. He was crying, and I said "Shhh, baby. It's ok..." and he stopped. It was magic. They finally put him in my arms because I was too drugged to pick him up myself. The nurse thought I said I was overwhelmed when I suddenly couldn't talk. What I said was that I was overjoyed. He was born with a mohawk.

He is devastatingly handsome, even at three. He looks so much like his father, acts so much like his father. I catch myself saying, "He is YOUR child", because they are so similar. My heart knows that when his Papa does leave, I'll be able to see him in that boy's face. It's reassuring to know my favorite eyebrows will be preserved for another generation.

"When I grow up, I want to be a King and an acrobat!" This announcement came about a month ago. My little brother wanted to be a Lion. Now that he's been in school for a while he's told me he wants to be a doctor. I was disappointed; knowing what a standard answer that was for such a far off dream. He's also learned that the opposite of skinny is fat. That is an awful word. I never use it and am going to force him to say, "rotund" instead. I remember reading somewhere that Sarah Jessica Parker never used that "f word" around her son. She is noble for that.

In Blockbuster, waiting to pay for movies, he read half of the word "gobstopper". He wants to read so badly. It's right there on the tip of his mind and it's amazing to watch. That world is and always has been so important to us, me and that boy. Reading together is something we've always done. Donovan the cat used to get so mad at me for reading to my huge belly. We had to put her on a sedative so I could read You Are My I Love You as often as I required. He can "read" any book that we've read once. He repeats almost every word, in almost perfect order.

I love that boy. He will be taller than me by the first grade, I'm sure. But for right now he still lets me call him my baby. He has my heart in a way no one else does. That boy; my boy. He's never belonged to me, I know that, but I'm glad he was given.