“I can’t fall asleep with a pupper cut, pup-er, paper cut,” Evelyn blubbers out from the top bunk to Dave, whose height puts him at eye level with her. I’ve taken my turn at consoling, so Dave takes a hand to her back as I snuggle up below, not on the lower bunk but on the adjacent futon.
“Why do paper cuts hurt so bad? The knife hurt even more. Nevermind this one hurts badder. Mom, have you had a paper cut before?” With my hands typing and my mind distracted, questions fly from Evelyn’s mouth like a NASCAR driver at Daytona until she lands on the finish line: “Mom! Has a knife cut you?” I tell her it has, many times. Pausing writing, I stand to show her the inch-long, white line on the back of my hand.
I didn’t tell her the story, but I will tell you. Just a playful cutting motion made with a butcher knife by Todd Hildebrand, the couple-year-old Central Washington football player I worked with. On a snail-paced, no customer day, he – the chef – and I – the waitress – stood just past the double doors of the kitchen being twentysomething year olds. But boy, did our mouths drop open when he accidentally nicked me, opening my skin like a zipped-open jacket.
Evelyn is now asking, “Do you always write what I say?”
“Not always,” I tell her.
“But sometimes?”
“Yeah, sometimes.”
“Why do you always go write, write, write, delete, delete, delete?”
Dang it, she’s right. I do a cha-cha-like finger motion with several words, only to take a few slides to the left back in deletion.
Speaking of Evelyn and her silence (sleeping?). She is an incredible, and I mean incredible, swimmer. The strength of her underwater swims and the deep in breaths above water—at four years old, she is as competent as any adult. I am so proud of her tenacity, resilience, and strength.
In the pool earlier, she and I had a tea party underwater. I gave her a lump of sugar, and we clinked glasses. With goggles on, we let out our air to lay our bellies on the bottom and gave each other the thumbs up. It’s another world underwater—the sensations, the weightless, beautified suspension. Bobbing under again and again reminded me of being a kid down there, of how big I felt, how powerful, exploring the nooks and crannies of the underworld.
Speaking of the underworld… I gotta go. If I don’t go now, I’ll miss out on my zoning out in anther world headphone Spanish learning time. I’ll see you tomorrow!
Love,
Jaclynn
Going On 40 