| | A week has not passed since his three neighbor friends moved away. Each day they have been gone, his knocks at my back door have startled me more. They call out to remind me what it is like to be lonely. Going outside in daylight means he will run up to me with hopeful eyes, but when I ask him what he wants or needs, he says, "nothing" and deflates.
A couple of days ago, his drooped shoulders sent me to the front closet where old hand held electronic sporting games gathered dust. They'd been Christmas presents for my ex husband because nobody knew what to get him, and since I did not know what to do for Michael, I gave them to him. I thought he would be excited and while we figured out how to change the batteries he was. The next day he was glum again and when asked about the games he lied and said he finished them. If his friends were around, he would be holding one and Jacob would be begging him for a turn.
This afternoon when loading my bike for a ride I did not see him, but I heard a murmur like a blind puppy looking for its mother. He was curled up in the favored lawn chair crying. All four used to compete for that chair and the tire swing and the attention of any safe person happening by. I asked him if he'd gotten in trouble and he buried his face after shaking his head, "no."
Not having children of my own I often miscalculate what interests them which is why I gathered all the magazine subscriptions going to waste out of school and brought them to the makeshift table we had left out for play after the mural was complete. "Do you want these?" I called over to a lawn chair with two little feet protruding from its edge. It took a while, but he stood up. He looked over the magazines and took all of the Sports Illustrateds right away. He picked up Fortune, Wired and Black Enterprize and looked at me like I was clueless.
I know so well what loneliness is made of having chosen it in preference to lying or holding my tongue but his condition was not a result of his doing. I remember what it was like to have life change in the time it took to back out of the driveway for college. But I knew I would see my friends again someday. Michael's friends went to live with their father who loves them, but only had enough money to visit them a few times during their eighteen months stay. He won't likely have much left to come back after taking care of his three children. Today Michael realized what all the neighbors have been soft peddling: he might never see them again.
No magazines were going to perk him up. His arms were as limp as their pages. I wandered around the inside of my shed looking for something, anything that would distract his mind. I picked up boards and moved lawn equipment and deflated a little myself. I miss them too but I am lucky enough to have Michael to distract me. I found the bucket of markers and papers I'd given the kids to sketch out what they wanted to paint on the mural last week. All of their art work was stuffed inside and when I brought it to Michael he began to pick through the drawings identifying who'd made each one. And with each identification his smile grew wider and his arms more wiry.
I left him with more paper and a beach chair to sit at the low table and told him I wanted to see his drawings tomorrow. Not looking up from his digging through the sketches of his friends' imaginations, he nodded and waved me off for a while. I fully expect to be called to his art showing tomorrow. Lonely eight-year olds do not forget promises of any kind.
 It isn't quiet here without those three children. A truck comes daily to drop off more things that will eventually morph the half acre yard into a garden that will supply food for people who buy shares and for people who need it. It is exciting to see and heartening to know that all of those coming by on the truck have made friends with Michael. I know he will be working in that garden often and that eventually a new feeling will take hold of the whole place, but right now, even with the sounds of good things happening, it is less here. Less whimsical, less ornery and less sweet.
(This is the first bed they planted.)
I have neglected to post Fillup's most recent video here until now. Michael and our three neighbor friends are in it. I filmed it the day before they left. They speak about the serious issues of the day and how to solve the world's problems. DayDay is also in it and while he is not ever present, he lives only around a corner. He will not replace Leigha, Matthew and Jacob, but the boy has a sparkle and spirit that I hope to see around here more often.
It's been a rainy and cold summer week. I hope your weekends are lovely.
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| | Posted 7/2/2009 11:15 PM - 66 Views - 12 eProps - 12 comments
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