| Subject: Letters to Samson - 8 |
Author:
Holly
|
[
Next Thread |
Previous Thread |
Next Message |
Previous Message
]
Date Posted: 19:26:40 08/19/05 Fri
In reply to:
Holly
's message, "Letters to Samson - 1" on 18:59:32 06/04/05 Sat
There are times when I want to beat you with a stick. Tonight was one of those times. We went to see your sempai get her black belt, and you were - quite literally and quite merrily - climbing the walls of the dojo. And chattering nonstop. And you weren't listening to me. And I was upset, because we were SUPPOSED to be quiet.
People talk about having "baggage." Your father and I don't have baggage: we have barges. Loaded with cargo containers, full of full sets of luggage, each inherited from somebody. This particular bag, before it belonged to me, belonged to your grandmother. Before her, it belonged to her grandmother, some kind of toxic butterfly about whom we may never know the full truth. I got some truth from my grandmother, some more from my mother, and more still from Aunt Marilyn.
And this, my little love, is just one branch of your enormous family tree. After you're old enough to read a few southern gothic novels, I'll explain it to you. It'll make more sense then.
I'm circling around this issue. I know I am. I felt so ashamed tonight. Not of you.
Of me. That's what I want to tell you. There is nothing in this world that you could ever do, well, short of beating me with a stick, and even then, not until you're bigger than I am, that would make the urge to strike you an expression of anything more than me losing my blob.
I was afraid that someone might yell at us. At me. Every bone burned with the knowledge that this was all my fault. And I looked into your eyes, ready to give you a very stern talking-to (young man), and
melted
again
and gave you noses.
But I still felt ashamed and horrible and dark in the psyche, like something so basic was so very wrong with me. I am a monster.
I am melodrama.
We went home when you could no longer contain yourself. I think Sempai Danielle was happy that you came and cheered for her (and, we didn't see it, but I think she'll be your sensei from now on). And then it was back to the next containment challenge: Mary Kate and the four new kittens under the bed.
I cannot believe how poised you are with her and her babies. You haven't touched any of the babies. I can just barely keep from picking them up and squeezing their little tiny cheeks. I completely trust you with them, and so does Mary Kate, who's only inside because I stuffed her in a pillow case and brought her in here to have her babies. She even lets you pet her when she's eating. She and her kittens live under YOUR bed.
Which is a funny kind of time. Commander Fluffypants is also her kitten. And he stalks and torments her the way you chase Commander Fluffypants. So, I'm telling you to be mellow with him and him to leave her alone, and she's warning him but can barely get away from the new ones, who are so full of milk they look like ticks. ANd she pushes them away, and pulls them back, and they roll all over her, but she loves on them and pets them until something hurts and she gets annoyed.
And up above her, in the bed she's under, you're rolling around on top of me, and you're trying to grab Fluffypants, who's on my head, and you're calling him your baby brother.
And a big old matched set of 40's-era heavy american touristers goes tumbling into the wide muddy river. Exactly where it belongs.
I love you. Any dark thought I have has nothing, nothing to do with you. I hope you always know it.
[
Next Thread |
Previous Thread |
Next Message |
Previous Message
]
| |
Feedback: 