On a Friday evening, she took me to the movies and I cried. I cried because I wasn't old enough to appreciate nostalgia. I cried because I was young enough to form an opinion about the pain it caused. I cried because I was terrified that she would die one day and I wouldn't know how to tell her what she meant to me--that she drenched everything in perfection, that just her scent wafting from down the hall made me happy to know her, that I was blessed to be some derivative of her being.
It was dark outside when the movie ended and she grabbed me by the hand. She was never in a hurry but had nothing to say to the masses. Truth be told, she was different from them. And by different I mean marvelous. And by marvelous, I mean enchanting. Walking side by side with her, I felt compelled to make her proud, to make something of myself, to find great love in every dimension of my life.
When we pulled in the driveway, she left the keys in the car. No one would touch her car. It was impossible to inflict sadness upon her back then. She took me upstairs and she sat with me on one of the twin beds. I was dripping tears all over her sweater and I told her that I should have been born when she was born, that I didn't belong here. I wasn't made for this.
And she knew that we were the kindred spirits we had been at my birth, that she would shower me with infinite love and lesson and in return I wouldn't disappoint her.
This was our silent understanding. And now, days and months and years beyond that night, I should have asked her to stay with me. Perhaps I should have tucked her in.
And all this while, and much to my dismay, I have been outspoken.
Beautiful. The familial theme of this "kindred spirits" piece is intoxicating. Playing up the connection of the child's desire to be an "old soul" is a good move. The feeling of role reversal and age play could be even stronger, in an effort to reinforce the cyclical nature of not only their relationship, but life and its brevity. The confusion over the child's comprehension of the emotions that come with age and experience are very real, and the struggle to identify with someone who is a generation ahead makes for an intriguing dynamic. This idea could be greatly expanded upon in a longer form, I believe.
ReplyDeleteI like the part about I should have tucked her in.
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