The sound of an umbrella unfurling over my head wakens me. As my eyes peel open a little voice lisps, "'Amorning, 'Bika!" "Good morning baby, Allah-u-abha," I murmur back. I stare up at the umbrella. It is black with swirls of red through it, looking like waves of fire. He is twirling it over my head as he unsteadily settles next to me. It is a large umbrella, old fashioned with a wooden handle, and as one of the spokes plunges towards my eye I put my hand out to grab it. "How did he manage to get this into bed without gouging my eye out?" I think. "Baby, why do we have an umbrella in bed with us?" I inquire. "It maybes going to rain, I think," he says. His voice is fuzzy and I look over at him. His cheeks are very rosy and his normally sunny blue eyes are stormy gray. "How do you feel, baby boy?" "'Bika, I don't feel good. My back's mad at me. It's hurting me." "Can we close the umbrella?" I ask. "Oh, sure, sure!" he says. It's his new saying for the month. "Oh, sure, sure," and he pats the air reassuringly. I wonder which one of us he has picked that up from. Such a small baby boy, my grandson. What was it, day before yesterday when my baby boy was just as small?
"'Bika, can you hold me?" "Sure, sure," I say, not quite certain if I picked it up from him or vice-versa, at this point. He snuggles in next to me and lays his head on my chest. He is so warm. I rub his back. Yesterday my other baby, this one's twenty-four year old uncle, had stopped by to play a game. It was his day off and he had asked if him and I could spend some time together and play, "Axis and Allies." He hadn't had time for his old mom in quite a while so though I had a jazillion writing assignments to research and finish I knew these opportunities don't come often so I thought, "What can a little game hurt?" Nine hours later I told him I just didn't have it in me to try to defeat Japan and Germany any longer. Sorry, World War Two must end in a stalemate." He said he had grown tired of the game two hours earlier but thought I was enjoying it so didn't want to ruin my fun!
Throughout the whole game Kaden had to be entertained with various side games. We all play with his stuffed animals with him and use different voices so he is doing that now. As the day progressed he went from happy boy to grumpy boy to whiney boy. Then to quiet boy. That's when, "'Bika, hold me," became his mantra. "Can you hold me, now, 'Bika?" So I would take him up and roll dice or move my "army" with one hand while holding him to my chest, rocking and and making sushy noises. The older boy, who was this small it seems, what, just yesterday(?) and now could easily hold me, patiently explained for the hundredth time why I couldn't attack one of his countries since my planes weren't strong enough to fly back to safe territory. Men play by too many rules! No wonder they don't like women in wars. So, I say, my planes are kamikaze. He protests, You aren't Japan and kamikaze aren't in the rules, anyways. So, I say, my pilots have parachutes and they are meeting up with the Resistance after they bomb and bail out of their crippled planes. And he protests, Moooommmm! So, I say, Okay, okay! Sure, sure, have it your way.
"'Bika, can you hold me?" I look down into those eyes. I have stories that need to be completed. I have research that needs to be done. I look over at my son, who, just hours ago, was this tiny and small. "Yes, 'Bika can hold you baby." I scoop him up and hold him. Too soon he will be too big to hold. Too soon he won't have the time for me. Too soon, it will be tomorrow and the day after. I will take this moment in time and treasure it. "Yes, baby, yes, 'Bika can hold you."
"'Bika, can you hold me?" "Sure, sure," I say, not quite certain if I picked it up from him or vice-versa, at this point. He snuggles in next to me and lays his head on my chest. He is so warm. I rub his back. Yesterday my other baby, this one's twenty-four year old uncle, had stopped by to play a game. It was his day off and he had asked if him and I could spend some time together and play, "Axis and Allies." He hadn't had time for his old mom in quite a while so though I had a jazillion writing assignments to research and finish I knew these opportunities don't come often so I thought, "What can a little game hurt?" Nine hours later I told him I just didn't have it in me to try to defeat Japan and Germany any longer. Sorry, World War Two must end in a stalemate." He said he had grown tired of the game two hours earlier but thought I was enjoying it so didn't want to ruin my fun!
Throughout the whole game Kaden had to be entertained with various side games. We all play with his stuffed animals with him and use different voices so he is doing that now. As the day progressed he went from happy boy to grumpy boy to whiney boy. Then to quiet boy. That's when, "'Bika, hold me," became his mantra. "Can you hold me, now, 'Bika?" So I would take him up and roll dice or move my "army" with one hand while holding him to my chest, rocking and and making sushy noises. The older boy, who was this small it seems, what, just yesterday(?) and now could easily hold me, patiently explained for the hundredth time why I couldn't attack one of his countries since my planes weren't strong enough to fly back to safe territory. Men play by too many rules! No wonder they don't like women in wars. So, I say, my planes are kamikaze. He protests, You aren't Japan and kamikaze aren't in the rules, anyways. So, I say, my pilots have parachutes and they are meeting up with the Resistance after they bomb and bail out of their crippled planes. And he protests, Moooommmm! So, I say, Okay, okay! Sure, sure, have it your way.
"'Bika, can you hold me?" I look down into those eyes. I have stories that need to be completed. I have research that needs to be done. I look over at my son, who, just hours ago, was this tiny and small. "Yes, 'Bika can hold you baby." I scoop him up and hold him. Too soon he will be too big to hold. Too soon he won't have the time for me. Too soon, it will be tomorrow and the day after. I will take this moment in time and treasure it. "Yes, baby, yes, 'Bika can hold you."
1 comment:
I really liked this! Thank-you for sharing it.
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