He’s growing tall before our eyes. We have the luxury of having him stay with us for a few weeks while the family is between houses. Along with this beloved boy comes his music, which pours out of our baby grand whenever he’s in the house – Mozart, Beethoven, Scriaban. Oh what fun to see people react when he starts to play!
He also brings his pets, a bearded dragon, two geckos and a python. Yes, a real one. The python eats a dead rat once a month. I’m privileged to catch him midmeal, and see the rat’s tail dangling from his mouth as he slowly digests its bulge. Note to self – avoid the glass cage in the family room.
We sit and chat from time to time as he groans over his homework and complains about the waste of his time at school. He should be doing nothing but playing the piano. I sympathize – he is that good. Topics range from annoying teachers to the state of the world. I can’t help but think of my father when I look at that mop of unruly curls. It is red like his grandfather’s was, even more coppery, and every bit as curly. I think my father would have loved this boy.
His room is a mess, the bed left unmade as he rushes out each morning to meet the day. Dirty clothes don’t quite make it into the basket. The toothpaste tube gets squeezed in the middle. Corn chips and macaroni disappear quickly, almost before I buy them, it seems. Do I care? Not one little bit. For just a little while, this boy is mine.
