Dear Little Boy,
You saw a poster with an actress holding "Light in the Attic" and noticed how funny it was that there was a drawing of a house on a guy's forehead. We were sitting in the Non-Fiction, fun science book section, and I saw an image I was so familiar with, that I had actually taken it for granted.
We were in the Ft Washington branch (one of the few times we have walked anywhere alone, I just realized. When your Mom was around, we did a lot of walking around the neighborhood.)
So I ran over to the kids section we were just in, where you found all the Cat Power novels. I had recognized it out of the corner of my eye, but it could be just an illusion. I read one or two poems to you. And we both laughed. Especially the one about the Babysitter who thinks you are supposed to sit on the Baby. You pointed out the feet sticking out from under her butt.
You got a 6 books (5 cat ones, 1 Bunnicula) and 3 DVDs, all Pokemon. I got 8 books, some in Spanish, like Dr Seuss. Some science-y ones too. We need to do more science experiments. Especially if your Dad is gonna be a science teacher.
One of the best things about being friends with someone is getting to share all your favorite stuff with them, to introduce it to them. You get to experience it again for the first time. Like the Monkees. Like Shel Silverstein. Like reading and telling stories and jokes. (You called my name over and over and over again when I was in the bathroom, and when I got out, I did it to you too. "Hey, hey, hey, hey.... Hi" I guess we have a shared joke now)
We read a bunch of them when we got home. And had pizza, I was really hungry, too. Fun just hanging out with each other. I told Jin that he had a nice smile when we saw him on 180th st on the way home. You said, "I never hear anyone saying that someone has a nice smile," I hope I'm not teaching you to talk to strangers. I think you were appreciating an act of goodwill on my part. Simple. Beautiful.
(Later, after you had gone to bed and your dad and I both read Tintin to you. I was thinking about what a lovely day I had had. He asked if you "pressed my buttons", I think because we aren't related and I get to be a grownup, but also a friend, maybe a sister, definitely a roommate. we get to just hang out. You are honestly the best, most honest relationship I have in my life right now.
When you were probably asleep and the house was quiet, I heard a story on "This American Life". About a girl who grew up in a house where her father would get drunk and abusive and violent. And to this day he denies it all. I'm thinking that this "sickness in the head" involves a lot of forgetting.
I'm thinking here of the Grown Man.
I haven't heard much from him lately. A weird set of drunk texts before New years, a quick email. I still don't know if it's him not having enough confidence to talk to me, or if he is genuinely afraid to see anyone for any reason (especially when it might involve becoming friends with them). Sometimes, I think I should be relieved that I've dodged a bullet.
I'm writing this to you because I think we are both in the weird place of loving people who have a mental illness. I think that your Mom and him, my friend, (you said his name, his real name, not his nickname, Superman, a few days ago) have the same disease. He told me his diagnosis. Mixed Bipolar. I don't think your Mom has an official diagnosis yet. Either way, they need to be careful. And so do we. They are both beautiful people who have moments of ugly. Your Mom was really depressed and had to go away to deal with it all.
My friend, I think, hides, when it comes on. But I think he hides when it isn't there too. Just to be safe. He lives down the hall from us and I don't know what to do to make friends with him any more than I have already. (I try to tell myself that he's not interested in my friendship. Which is fine, and if I sensed that were the case, I'd leave it. But when he talks to me, he opens up. But he hasn't lately. So I'm keeping my distance. And I'll be happy to, for the rest of my life. But if he needs me as a friend, I'm here. I wish I could go back to being friends with your Mom too, because I think she needs a friend. But she scares me. And I think I've betrayed her deeply. She'll never forgive me and I've seen her angry now. So I can't go back to trusting she won't blow up at me. I need friends who won't do that.)
Do you remember your Mom's birthday last year? We walked down to Buddha Bar on Broadway and 190th. You discovered I had a video camera on my phone and took shots of the bar. You had such energy that you were running back and forth in front of us and at one point, you ran all the way up that steep hill that has the old houses with the bad vinyl siding on them. The VERY steep hill. A guy came up behind us and joked with you as you were running and you guys ran up together. And then you ran down. joyful. I still remember that.
Maybe that's what else I'm here for. To remember your memories for you. Clearly.
You saw a poster with an actress holding "Light in the Attic" and noticed how funny it was that there was a drawing of a house on a guy's forehead. We were sitting in the Non-Fiction, fun science book section, and I saw an image I was so familiar with, that I had actually taken it for granted.
We were in the Ft Washington branch (one of the few times we have walked anywhere alone, I just realized. When your Mom was around, we did a lot of walking around the neighborhood.)
So I ran over to the kids section we were just in, where you found all the Cat Power novels. I had recognized it out of the corner of my eye, but it could be just an illusion. I read one or two poems to you. And we both laughed. Especially the one about the Babysitter who thinks you are supposed to sit on the Baby. You pointed out the feet sticking out from under her butt.
You got a 6 books (5 cat ones, 1 Bunnicula) and 3 DVDs, all Pokemon. I got 8 books, some in Spanish, like Dr Seuss. Some science-y ones too. We need to do more science experiments. Especially if your Dad is gonna be a science teacher.
One of the best things about being friends with someone is getting to share all your favorite stuff with them, to introduce it to them. You get to experience it again for the first time. Like the Monkees. Like Shel Silverstein. Like reading and telling stories and jokes. (You called my name over and over and over again when I was in the bathroom, and when I got out, I did it to you too. "Hey, hey, hey, hey.... Hi" I guess we have a shared joke now)
We read a bunch of them when we got home. And had pizza, I was really hungry, too. Fun just hanging out with each other. I told Jin that he had a nice smile when we saw him on 180th st on the way home. You said, "I never hear anyone saying that someone has a nice smile," I hope I'm not teaching you to talk to strangers. I think you were appreciating an act of goodwill on my part. Simple. Beautiful.
(Later, after you had gone to bed and your dad and I both read Tintin to you. I was thinking about what a lovely day I had had. He asked if you "pressed my buttons", I think because we aren't related and I get to be a grownup, but also a friend, maybe a sister, definitely a roommate. we get to just hang out. You are honestly the best, most honest relationship I have in my life right now.
When you were probably asleep and the house was quiet, I heard a story on "This American Life". About a girl who grew up in a house where her father would get drunk and abusive and violent. And to this day he denies it all. I'm thinking that this "sickness in the head" involves a lot of forgetting.
I'm thinking here of the Grown Man.
I haven't heard much from him lately. A weird set of drunk texts before New years, a quick email. I still don't know if it's him not having enough confidence to talk to me, or if he is genuinely afraid to see anyone for any reason (especially when it might involve becoming friends with them). Sometimes, I think I should be relieved that I've dodged a bullet.
I'm writing this to you because I think we are both in the weird place of loving people who have a mental illness. I think that your Mom and him, my friend, (you said his name, his real name, not his nickname, Superman, a few days ago) have the same disease. He told me his diagnosis. Mixed Bipolar. I don't think your Mom has an official diagnosis yet. Either way, they need to be careful. And so do we. They are both beautiful people who have moments of ugly. Your Mom was really depressed and had to go away to deal with it all.
My friend, I think, hides, when it comes on. But I think he hides when it isn't there too. Just to be safe. He lives down the hall from us and I don't know what to do to make friends with him any more than I have already. (I try to tell myself that he's not interested in my friendship. Which is fine, and if I sensed that were the case, I'd leave it. But when he talks to me, he opens up. But he hasn't lately. So I'm keeping my distance. And I'll be happy to, for the rest of my life. But if he needs me as a friend, I'm here. I wish I could go back to being friends with your Mom too, because I think she needs a friend. But she scares me. And I think I've betrayed her deeply. She'll never forgive me and I've seen her angry now. So I can't go back to trusting she won't blow up at me. I need friends who won't do that.)
Do you remember your Mom's birthday last year? We walked down to Buddha Bar on Broadway and 190th. You discovered I had a video camera on my phone and took shots of the bar. You had such energy that you were running back and forth in front of us and at one point, you ran all the way up that steep hill that has the old houses with the bad vinyl siding on them. The VERY steep hill. A guy came up behind us and joked with you as you were running and you guys ran up together. And then you ran down. joyful. I still remember that.
Maybe that's what else I'm here for. To remember your memories for you. Clearly.
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