I feel I have stories to tell, so many stories, so many subjects. Life, love, transitions, family, seasons, landscapes, people. I can go ethnic and enlighten. I can go academic and propound. I can go philosophical and solve the mysteries of the universe. I can go spiritual and captivate the flock. I can soar in poetry or solve crimes in fiction. I can write the lyrics of an eternal song. I chose a single topic today so that kaleidoscope which is in my head can focus for a while.
I chose to write today about my son. He is my heart and that just makes me realize that I have multiple hearts. I should call him jigar ka tukda, which means piece of my heart.
I was young, a student, and suddenly, wonderfully pregnant. All clichés applied. Glowing, radiant, put on fifty pounds and did not care. Working, walking, really very happy. Walked into First Avenue, a disco owned by Prince, and that baby kicked and kicked till I had to leave. Too loud, mom.
The child was due December 28. He did not come. I went to take the Foreign Service exam on December 30, with no prep, since I did not expect to be taking it and even passed. New Years Eve I was jumping up and down in my red maternity dress watching fireworks at the Riverfront in Minneapolis. He did not come. January 3 it was twenty five degrees below zero, I watched the Cosby show and went to the hospital. The same hospital I was born in, and after 30 hours of labor he was delivered by Caesarean section. I had scratched my husband’s hand to the bone for telling me to breathe. Only the nurses could tell me to breathe because the baby needed oxygen. He was a little blue and a whopping ten pounds. I thought he had big ears, and he had no wrinkles. Four months later insurance called to say he was born before the university academic quarter started and his stay in the NICU was not covered, and I owed them six thousand dollars. I told them that if they had told me that earlier I would have let him stay blue. They forgave the debt.
I loved that baby, all mellow and smart. When we moved to Cincinnati and were just finding friends, we would put his long silky hair in a topknot and give him a glass of seven up and watch him spin like a top. He grew and was reading at three and spelled construction as cnstrxshn. I marveled and laughed. We ran the gamut of school and activities, basketball, soccer, baseball, swimming, track, football and lacrosse. He acted in plays and read voraciously, He had friends and heartbreaks, girlfriends and music.
His first love was at seven. “Mom, I feel good when Elise sits in front of me or behind me or diagonal from me.” The first time his heart broke, he did not smile for a week. I held his face and looked into his eyes and said, “I worked too hard to raise you, you cannot leave me now!” His father (who is five feet nine inches tall) held my son’s six foot two inch frame in his arms and said, “What can I do to make you smile?”and went and bought him a new computer with music software. He survived.
The first time he dyed his hair was in eighth grade. He dyed it purple for Latin. When he went to Florida for spring break, the chlorine in his friend’s swimming pool turned it green. He was a defensive tackle in football, I asked him why he never tackled anyone and he said, “Mom, I block.” I bought Football for Dummies. A little girl watching the football game asked me if he was the Jolly Green Giant. His hair was bleached blonde, colored red and finally he went bald. Then it grew out long and with his beard, he looked like Jesus. I saw an entire auditorium murmur as he walked up to get an award, “Jesus!”
He was fifteen when I got pregnant again. One of his friend’s mother had just died of breast cancer. When he saw my husband making me lie down on the sofa, he thought the worst and his eyes betrayed him, I went to him and said, “Look me in the eye, I do not have cancer. I am just pregnant.” The relief and the sudden “Ugh!”was wonderful.
He has a sister he is truly fond of and cool with. They are three years apart and friends. He has a brother who is fifteen years younger than he is and they still play video games together.
He went to college, found a job, found a wonderful girl and lives close by. He opened my eyes to many books, my ears to so much music. Nine inch nails, anyone? Nerdcore? (That is rap for nerds.) He brought me joy and laughter.
Did I tell you he is six feet four inches tall and now shaves his head? Still, sometimes I see the spinning topknot.
Anita Raturi 