I’ve been watching clouds lately. Don’t know why. It’s not like interesting cloud patterns and textures and formations are anything new. But give me something new, like a new phone with a new camera, and off I head into any situation, seeking something worth clicking. Here’s one I took, just strolling along next to the waterfront. Feel free to superimpose any emotional content, deep or surface-level, that comes to mind.
Not a single photo came out from my son’s ceremony marking the end of 5th grade. Not a one. Let me repeat. I have no picture of him standing in front of everyone stating his dream for the future: “I want to be an architect or an engineer. I like building with all kinds of things now, and I’d like to build something in the real world.” I have no video of him making an impromptu speech before handing his teacher a bouquet of flowers on behalf of the parents. In both instances, he was articulate. He was handsome. I don’t have a picture. At least I have the words.
And, he and I have words. He’s taking a trip later this summer, and I wanted him to have a cell phone for the trip. But you can’t just get a cell phone at the beginning of at trip, because it takes a few days to learn how to use these complicated new devices, and there was no way I was going to give him a phone that wouldn’t be a strong contender in the male my-phone/iPod/Kindle/hat/skateboard/penis-is-bigger-better-than-yours game that is middle school. Especially because I have a linguistic, talkative, sensitive, emotive, funny, creative, smart kid who is liked and respected by his peers in the classroom, but hangs out by himself on the playground (my son walks away from the high-speed bodies crashing, pushing, shoving, running, pivoting, limbs akimbo, elbows jutting, skin tearing, unpredictable playground milieu that courses through the blood of most 5th grade boys, boiling and churning until it simply erupts at the first millisecond of recess – if he ever asked to join, he’d be welcomed in, but he doesn’t ask). He is not a nerd. And now he’s a not-nerd with a really cool phone.
Our first long-distance texting thread, connecting us across different parts of the state, ended like this:
Me: “Love you lots, Mom”
Him: “Love you to”
I will not now, or ever, tell him of the typo. I’m immortalizing it, sure, by writing about it, but he’s too young to follow my posts. And when he’s old enough, and possibly stumbles on this, he’ll know that it is with utter joy that I retain this memory. He is wordy and demonstrative and shows me in a million ways he loves me. Every fiber of my being knows he loves me; I have basked in a son’s true and enduring love for over a decade. Yet he rarely comes out with an “I love you.”
I’m considering saving the text for all time.
Because, you see, he and I have words. Magnificent, simple words that transform us, cover our exposure, make us feel blanketed in a world that can strip you bare.
texting rocks! kids these days use texting like we use email. my kids won’t pick up the phone if i call them, but they will return a text within a half hour. go figure!
p.s. hot hot hot in MKE! am hating it….