The Life Imaginary
The days are sunny and warm. Cheeks and I sit outside on the lawn watching the rabbits. Copying the rabbits. Cheeks still can’t get over how delicious grass tastes. He eats his fill of it then sits still and listens to the birds, copying their calls as best he can. He watches the rabbits as they munch down the weeds, and looks at me to see if I’m watching them too. The wind ruffles his hair and he shakes his head, closes his eyes, and squeals loudly. His voice sounds different when the wind is blowing. I ask if he wants to walk to the grocery store. “Just leave me here, Mom. I’ll come inside when it’s bath time.”
During those rainy times, when we’re inside, I let him wander. I follow him around the house, pulling him away from things that are dangerous, redirecting him away from lamp cords and stairs. I sit in the chair he wants to stand holding on to, I supply snacks along the way to keep his energy levels up. He plugs along all day. He talks. He’s telling a story. He’s a brave adventurer. The dining chair is an epic monster. Every few minutes he looks up at me and smiles, sure I’ll help when he’s in need, and then returns to his adventure. Occasionally he loses his balance and the monster strikes a blow. He retreats. As I watch the bruise form on his forehead, I suggest he has some lunch and maybe a nap before returning to battle. “Good idea, Mom. I’ll need my energy.”
While he sleeps he babbles. His little feet move rhythmically. Always busy. I put a load of laundry in the washer, sweep and mop the floors, chop vegetables, and sit down with my book. Passing the time before I get to be Sancho Panza again.