Well…whoever said that grief demands to be felt was right. There’s no bottling it in, EVEN when you have a benchmark paper to write before heading out of town, and EVEN when you’re sitting in a moderately busy coffee shop. EVEN when you’re jamming on your paper, finally getting in a groove, and EVEN when you will the lump in your throat and welling tears to GO.
Stevie Nicks. The pretty melody of “Landslide” and the lyrics,
But time makes you bolder
Even children get older
And I’m getting older, too
Not all children get older all of the time. That song piping overhead, combined with a mom and teenager walking into the coffee shop; I really didn’t stand a chance.
I took Kade to coffee shops. I want to take him to a coffee shop again. I want to have taken him to more. I want to sit him down here (with his red and black flannel shirt, as the teenager here has on–brutal) across from me and ask him what these past five years have been like for him. I want to know if he knows how they have been for me. There is a lot I want to know. Actually, scratch all that shit. I want to ask him how his classes are, how his girlfriend is, and when he’s coming over for dinner.
Gosh, it’s good to imagine him sitting across from me. If that could happen you would see one crazy lady dancing in the streets. I see him strong, and healthy, and muscular, and happy, and smiling, and hungry, and in black baggy shorts, black skateboard shoes, the black and red flannel with a white tee-shirt underneath, and longer hair underneath a baseball hat on backward. My beautiful Kade.