Wunderkind

I recently moved across the country in order to start a new job, and while some parts of this transition have been difficult (namely living by myself for the first time and trying to make sure I don’t choke to death alone in my apartment) it has been a rather exciting time.

Editor’s note: choking to death alone in my apartment is a legitimate fear. When I was in middle school (ok…it was college), my father instituted a rule that I could not eat dinner while watching America’s Funniest Home Videos, because I would laugh to the point of hurting myself. For real. I choked on my food and had to give myself the Heimlich maneuver…twice.

One of the harder parts of this transition has been lacking the time to write poetry. I am working full time now, and I’ve found that a busy mind with too much solitude was the ideal environment to let my imagination run obnoxiously wild. I fear that I have lost that gift for the time being, the trade-off being living the life for which I was pining. To gain one thing often means letting go of another, but I grieve the loss of late nights, fevered dreams and furrowed brows just the same.

Last week I was thrilled to see my goddaughter Ana perform as a “bonbon” in her ballet school’s production of The Nutcracker. I was even more thrilled that while she waited backstage, she used the time to pen some poetry in her mini spiral notebook.

Below are two poems written by Ana (age 8):

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I’m pretty proud to know this kid.

I’ll cry if I want to…

In two days time I am driving across the country to begin a new job. One of the reasons I started my WordPress account is that I was laid off from my job about 4 years ago, and I needed some way to channel my thoughts and occupy my time. This new adventure is such a huge change for me, not only because I have not had “regular” employment for 4 years, but also because I have never lived away from home. I don’t mean that figuratively – I have literally lived in the same house for my entire life. I didn’t go away for college and the longest I’ve ever been away from home is for 3 weeks.

I had big plans for today. I was going to run some last-minute errands, finish packing, and have a marathon of Summer Heights High playing in the background. At about 2 pm today I heard a thump in front of my house followed by the worst siren I’ve ever heard. I live in an area where sirens, car accidents and even fights are not all that unusual, but something was different about this siren. I opened the front door to see a dog laying in the middle of the street, who had just been clipped by a car. The husky was trying to move out of the middle of the street but his back legs had been badly injured. The “siren” had been his cries of pain. I ran out to the middle of the street and held the dog in my lap for about half an hour while waiting for animal control to come and assess his condition.

My neighborhood has had it shares of ups and downs. Over the decades, there has been a lot of transition, changes in the community and even violence. But today…today I was so proud of my neighborhood. Everyone responded so quickly. Seconds after I got to Balto, neighbors were directing traffic around us, calling 911, contacting animal support, and getting in touch with the dog’s owners. As I held Balto cradling his head in my lap, his 11-year-old owner came running up, tears streaming down her face. She held my arm and kissed Balto’s head, saying “But he has to be okay. He’s a dad…and he has a dog wife.” It took everything in me to keep from bawling in front of this child, the whole time my brain saying “Dammit kid, I am barely holding it together right now.” I hastily wiped off the dog blood from my arms and hands so she wouldn’t see.

At one point I looked up at a woman who was helping me to keep Balto calm and said, “Today is my birthday…” (I told you I had other plans for the day). She looked at me with tear-brightened eyes and said, “Oh shit.” Animal control came and transported Balto to the emergency vet. I don’t know what’s happened to Balto. I don’t know his humans, only that they live somewhere a few streets down. I don’t even know their names.

I fell in love with that dog in all of five minutes. And such is life. We love. And we say goodbye. It only takes a moment to love, and we are changed by that love just as quickly. And then, we have to pack up our boxes, fill up the car, and take our leave. And it sucks. We bleed out our love and cry out our loss. Loving and saying goodbye is messy, bloody, and hard; then we wake up and do it all again the next day, because we have to. And we speak in metaphors because sometimes the truth requires words that we don’t have.