I smirked warmly as I saw the sparkle in his eye. The look he gets when his pieces are truly seen by someone completely. The first thing I asked was, “what is this funky little critter’s name”? I have a slightly obsessive habit of anthropomorphizing, well… almost everything. I think everything but the garbage can, has a name in this house. Yikes. Anyhow, as usual he said, “I don’t know.” (This is a concept I just can’t grasp folks, perhaps it’s because I am the literary half of this partnership, but it NEEDS A NAME!!!) I rubbed my eyes and dragged myself to the coffee, thinking of how I was ever going to find a board patient, AKA: wallowing in self-pity as my coffee was brewing. All the sudden I heard Adam – “A name, why?”
Why?? Because this little “doodle” (his words, not mine), was magic. It felt like home. Like the most beautiful bits and pieces of our family and lives together- wrapped up in this monster that seemed to follow us wherever we went. The creature’s gorgeous translucent, but much too small wings, embodied a marvelous struggle to get off the ground that has a near constant presence in our lives. The soft hues of blues and purples were warm and inviting, those tones just gave a feeling of welcoming and love. Yet the singular pointed horn that adorned the beast’s adorable head felt like the necessary warning for our families, friends and society in general. Some were well-intended; others were simply ignorant and nasty. So that wide, snaggle toothed grin across the little doodle’s face seemed to define our reserved defensiveness and at the same time our eagerness and joy to want to let people in for the children.
I asked him, “so where’d this come from?”- it’s kind of my standard question when I find a really cool “doodle” I like. “I dunno know”. ‘Yes, you do, you grumpy, overworked jerk’ almost came out of my mouth, all mean and dirty, like an old-timey coal powered train. I was so tired too, just dog-tired. But, for once, I said nothing and took his hand, guiding him towards the bedroom and said goodnight to him with a kiss and good morning to mesodermally-derived cells of the embryonic stage of the formation of human dentition. It was awful, but we did it, almost every night. But his tonight and my morning were different this time. I couldn’t focus on teeth, so I pulled out this “doodle” who became Dimple… and felt everything I’d been missing.
To Be Continued…
