Chas, Daily

xoxo

08.08.07 | 8 Comments

I am the first thing in the morning. He reaches over and rests his arm on my shoulder, to know that I am there. I am a companion in the bathroom when he pees, because there are monsters; well, there really aren’t monsters, they’re just pretend; just in case, I’m there.
I’m groom, running through the house with a long black comb, chasing small blonde dreadlocks. I am master chef, with a stool by my side. I am wrong sometimes. I’ve also been called stupid. However, I prefer to be called “Mommy,” because it sounds so sweet from the voice of a two year-old, and because that voice will no longer say “Mommy” when it turns eight, I imagine.

“Mommy?” I hear Chas calling from his bedroom. In the kitchen, I call back,
“Yes? I’m in here,” and listen.

Barefeet patter down the wood hallway, through the laundry room and onto the kitchen linoleum, I brace my knees to avoid injury, and he slams into the side of my legs, nevertheless throwing me off balance, and I put the wooden spoon on the countertop.

I bend down and he jumps up, embracing me and squeezing every fiber of me within his moment, catching his breath to tell me something important.
“Mommy, I love you more than meets the eyes!”

8 Comments

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