Landmarks, Timestamps

It is said that

And I trust that

By the shit we traipsed through

This is how the path was made

you in your Airwalks, I in my Chuck Taylors

when both used to cost $25 per pair

or I in my sandals, you in your bare feet

when we were taking our Jesus phase quite seriously

before you settled on some comfortable work boots

and I in something I felt I could be taken seriously 

at my various graduate school internships

So we pave the way by going it

you with the built-in compass in your medial parietal cortex

I with the built-in clock in mine

With whatever we’re equipped

We track through the same mud

Generally keeping each other laughing for most of the journey

But intermittently despairing

I to ask you which landmarks we’ve already passed

You to confirm the accuracy of the timestamps we placed upon them

It’s been told to me that we may expect the trails to be treacherous

that we won’t always get the benefit of a star chart

and we may not even think it’s all that practical to have a timepiece

but that we may each expect a navigator

if we but make the space

and we may throw in a timekeeper

if we have that luxury

You and I got both

You to mock me for my fascination with a tattered road atlas, compulsively highlighting the routes already taken

I to chide you for still not wearing a watch 

I count on it

Like my subconscious automatically counts the seconds

That the missteps 

That the switchbacks yielded

Every gash from every tumble

Every mesquite thorn or sea urchin spine dug out

Every shot of the mezcal thrown back to treat said mesquite thorn puncture

Brought with it the needed context

-Uva Uvam Vivendo Varia Fit-*

                    *(which is super Latiny for what I'm trying to get across here)

In our delirious states

You to point southward the placement of the sun

I to interpret the when of the where its shadow does fall

Now then it could be

misleading

to say the least

Once we arrive at the destination

Received by our respective familiars seeing your boots caked

While an even distribution of the crusting covers me up to my torso

Which is what happens

every time

Every

Time

I get despondent, nigh catatonic

And it becomes necessary for you to pull me along

Because I know better than to selflessly tell you

“Oh, just go on without me”

How exactly then would I keep from getting lost?

How exactly then would you arrive on time?

It hasn’t failed us yet

immediacy - part 2

So we processed how awesome that was

what trappings and fixings were our preferred treatment for the nachos

(and we can both agree: Colby Jack—so much)

then I felt I should ask him 

about some…

stuff

This boy

who understands facts and figures

as a second language

finds it helpful to break down all of his concerns—

academic stress, middle school social dynamics, how much sibling annoys him, and

parents’ impending separation

into pieces of a pie, and respective percentages to be rated in each week’s session

Academic concerns this week?

He explained clearly that he’d take the math portion of the state standardized testing

with its reliable 1:1 ratio of solution to problem

any day, any year

over the open-ended requirements of the writing tests

(You and Me, kid)

20%

Middle School Social stuff?

Meh. Made a new friend this week.

2%

Sibling?

Absolutely obnoxious.

16%

Leaving only…

I do the math really quick

“That’s about sixty-something percent left, my friend”

Am I doing the math right?

I ask him

His eye contact had broken off when we started on the pie

and transfixed to the safety of nothing in front of him

His face wears all of the assuredness of a deer caught in a bath of ball stadium lighting

the look with which I’ve been familiar since my first job in foster care

I wear, for dramatic effect

my best gritted teeth

my best clenched jaw

and the rest of my face to match

I ask questions

just how okay does it feel to break down over this?

Sometimes

OFTEN

I just wish they’d feel comfortable enough to say

as softly and matter of fact as they can

“Well, asshole, it doesn’t”

(And when did I ever? 

I get it)

I ask the feeling words—

“I don’t know” is all he can manage

I have to assume that I ask another forgettable, inane, space filler

“I don’t know” is all he can manage

“How about I back off for tonight?”

I ask softly

I seem to have hit on the safe phrase to break him from that trance

You know

Sometimes

It’s okay

To make up your own short-answer question to a writing test

And to speak about how much you want nachos

And why

Because if it seems like

ummmm

some people can’t agree on anything else

They certainly seem to love you enough to agree that you deserve

some goddamned nachos every once in a while

“Colby Jack, right?”

Smile and enthusiastic nod

(He actually tried to suggest American at one point, so I had a very quick talk with him because his socialization is important to me)

“Black beans or refried?”

Pssh, black

“Beef or chicken?”
Leaning toward chicken tonight

Fair enough

“Jalapeños?”

He hesitates

“There may be some heartburn at first. They made me cry the first couple of times, but now I really REALLY need them. Give it a shot?”

He nods

immediacy - part 1

(4/12/17)

My current favorite 6th grader was brought to see me this evening.

I wouldn’t say he likes to talk

Shy one this one

Usually I don’t make the choice to join them on the couch

But for hearing him 

when his small 12 year-old face and voice register such uncertainty

There are responses to my standard interview openers about anxiety:

“Knowing that you’re going to be happy again”

and again, “that you’ll be safe”

that I may or may not have gotten had he been having to shout them at me

across the standard space

I keyed in quickly

that he is a baseball trivia genius in his own right

And I gave it my best:
“Who threw his 7th no-hitter in Nineteen Nine—“

“Nolan Ryan” he interrupted

with the nonchalant authority only a soft-spoken prepubescent can throw out

Impressed that I even tried

but more than that amused at how plainly stunned I was

Yet with a sudden brass that sincerely communicated:

‘That all ya’ got?’

Indeed it was

And that only because 

Texas

He showed to the next

diligently inquiring if I’d studied up

I hadn’t

But he showed me his summer bucket list anyway

because I’d said “I wanna see this list”

He took me through every single item and its importance

This evening

he took mild satisfaction that he’d crossed another off the list

Yes, he’d been to the Melting Pot

had all the desserts

And I

not hungry even a moment before

was struck with unmistakable pangs & specific hankering

as he spoke of his poly-glycemic, glutenated adventure 

or just right before?

Hard to say

But I felt it important to relay my sudden state

and of course he agreed in his meek, but enthusiastic way

that he was too

With only a hunch

I played naive (or thought I was but maybe wasn’t really) and asked earnestly:

“Dude, are you craving nachos too…?”

His eyes widened slightly, face lit, 

head nodded with subdued but unmistakable intensity in the affirmative

‘Get the fuck out,’ I almost said fully out loud (the first two words probably nonetheless audible)

singularity

You’re as quick as they come

and pretty much always have been

I think I can remember back to the summer that you truly honed it

You went from being the morbidly anxious little girl

shocked and scandalized by every little one of our references to sex

(do you recall hiding behind the office door that one time? Because you totally did.)

To the young woman

that owned everyone of us

And I recall our resident prophet’s forecast

That the youngest and shyest of us

Should one day transform into a singularity

In the presence of which we would all melt

When we weren’t melting

We were being scorched to ash

And if I wasn’t being scorched to ash

I wept with the pride of getting to be in your orbit

Now don’t think that I would ever see you in any other way

No matter how filled out

No matter how

what others might describe as

worn down

by the expectations of your sorority

that otherwise stirred within you open rebellion

For all of the loathsome glare we gave you at your sister’s wedding reception

when you left our lunch table, panicked, to join in the mandated celebratory circle

Whatever the fuck that was

Never think that I ever

ever

felt that you caved

I did not

I knew you to be acting in accord

with the dictates

of love

for your sister

for your mom

for her mom

All of which need to matter

All of whom did as well by you as they knew how

All of which needs to mean something

As well as they knew how, with what they themselves were given

And I cannot deem otherwise

SO LONG AS

it means something

Don’t think I don’t get that

It’s not easy but

My mother raised me to get that

I suspect you will raise your son to do the same