Just Stories

Sometimes, there!s  just a story that hits me. It does not require the focus of a short story. It does not require the focus of a poem. That’s why I’ll never be a professional writer. That’s ok. 

The last time Hunter was home, we watched “iZombie” together. He held my hand under a blanket while sitting on a patio chair. I’d given away our furniture. I’d bought new thrift store furniture but it wouldn’t be delivered until the next day….when he had already left to go to his dad’s. 

The first thing in the morning, while I was on the patio enjoying my coffee, he asked, “what can we do today?” I told him I’d already loaned the car to someone to get to work and back. 

“Really, mom? So we can’t go anywhere?”

“Nope. You’re stuck with me. Wanna stare at each other all day?” 

I said that to him anytime he wanted to “go somewhere, do something, buy something.” I’ll quite likely continue saying “Let’s just sit here and stare at each other” every time he wants to go somewhere; do something; buy something. 

When Hunter was very young, we didn’t have much.  As bad as it sounds to me now, we sat together and watched “Little House on the Prairie”.  He called it “the cowboy show.” We watched “the cowboy show”. My baby on my lap and our eyes on the tv and him asking questions as best he could and I explaining the answers as best I could.  It may sound silly, but I loved those moments.  

Eventually, he grew out of “the cowboy show” and we’d rent movies. A little nostalgia here, but I’d pick Hunter up at daycare, go to the video store and then to Taco John’s–also not ok by today’s standards. It was only on Fridays.  We always ended up renting scary movies. Not too scary, but thrillers. We’d sit together in the recliner or love seat and my little boy would hold my hand. We’d look at each other and laugh, cry, or make the surprised face. It’s an emoji. Surely, you understand the surprised face.  Occasionally, we’d always look at each other and say “ba ba baaaahm.”  

Friday’s eventually ended up being “Ghost Whisperer” nights. No videos, no fast food nights. We’d go home and he’d eat his Cheerios (he’s always loved Cheerios), I’d make popcorn and we’d watch “Ghost Whisperer.”  We watched it right up until it was cancelled.  It was network. We could afford network.  It’s on Netflix now. I can’t watch it because I remember those days. It was honestly a cheesy show, but Hunter and I always watched it together and loved it–maybe it was the show. Maybe it was that special time. 

Hunter is now 15 years old. He’s chosen to live with his dad. His dad never was home for “the cowboy show” or “The Ghost Whisperer”.  That’s ok. 

Hunter does like “iZombie”. We watched as much as we could together on the patio chairs before he had to go home. He reached over and took my hand while we watched it together. We made the same face and the same sounds we did when he was little.  I asked him if “iZombie” could be our new “Ghost Whisperer.” He laughed and said, “what?” 

I reminded him of those Friday nights when it was just the two of us and asked if we could make this show the same as that show–for us. He thought about it for a while and then said, “yes.” 

One thought on “Just Stories

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