new york city kid in arkansas
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Huck’s at that darling age where he calls everything “beautiful” in a kind of sarcastic, funny tone. If I answer something incorrectly, it’s “beautiful” and sometimes “amazing.” Silly jokes, absurd situations, weirdness in general is all beautiful and worthy of a satirical monologue, especially if he’s with his fellow sarcastic best friends. “That’s beautiful,” he says with delight and ‘tween condescension, sometimes making me long for those days when he couldn’t speak and I was his best friend.

Here’s something actually beautiful. Huck’s been working on transposing his piano songs to the viola. For a non-musical person like myself, it’s a miracle hearing a familiar tune being played on a whole other instrument by my little baby who at one point couldn’t even roll over without assistance. When he gets to playing, he goes into deep concentration and seems unable to hear or see anything else, especially if I’m reminding him of neglected homework or chores. These days he’s experiencing seventh grade stress and the occasional meltdown over things like Civil War questions, sonatina competitions, having to put his laundry away. He sometimes asks me to hug him while he either cries or laughs deliriously, both somehow cathartic. I pointed out that his music seems to bring comfort and relief, and he agreed. Also bringing comfort and relief from life-stress are those friends of his, who yesterday gathered at Wilson Park to complete the silent film they’re making together. Troy, Sunny and I set up camp and read our books, acting as lazy parental chaperones while our son’s happy, non-silent voice echoed through the park and occasional text messages gave us updates on their whereabouts.

This last weekend was nearly perfect. My week-long tongue sore that had me on a liquid diet was almost all healed, Troy and I have today off, and the weather has been positively glorious. Yesterday I sat for hours in the mild fall sunshine reading “Charlotte’s Web” in preparation for tonight’s first rehearsal of the play version. I was instantly taken back to first grade, sitting on the rug while Mrs. Tucker read the story to us six year olds everyday after lunch. The sun started to get lost behind trees and the temps began to drop to incredible levels of cozy right as I reached the ending of the book. Wilbur asks Charlotte why she did what she did for him and this is what she says:

“You have been my friend. That in itself is a tremendous thing. I wove my webs for you because I liked you. After all, what’s a life, anyway? We’re born, we live a little while, we die. A spider’s life can’t help being something of a mess, with all this trapping and eating flies. By helping you, perhaps I was trying to lift up my life a trifle. Heaven knows anyone’s life can stand a little of that.”

Beautiful.

4 comments

Pappy T

October 16th, 2017

Anyone’s life indeed!

Shauntsies

October 17th, 2017

Truly beautiful!!!!!

Aunt Jeni

October 17th, 2017

Just gorgeous! I can’t wait to hear him plan. XOXO

Padma Viswanathan

October 17th, 2017

Gorgeous. We’re so glad to have you lifting up our lives a trifle.

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