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The Day It Rained Forever
Jun. 7th, 2012 02:00 amIt rained hard today, but intermittently, and I forgot to take my umbrella when I went to pick up Cal for his music lesson. I think it was because I'd spent the day trying to work on this damn story, which is growing, but slowly and haphazardly; like ivy, except less organic. At any rate, we ended up on the streetcar when it began to pour, and I suddenly looked up to see Cal staring out the window with what seemed like a genuinely worried look on his face.
"Are you okay, bunny?" I asked. "Are you worried?"
"I'm worried," he replied, very clearly.
"You look worried," I said. "But seriously, it's okay. Mommy will do everything she can to make sure things turn out all right."
And I reached over and stroked his cheek, which he seemed to enjoy; he dug his chin into my palm and sort of leaned on it, like he was going to go to sleep. And then he went back to his iPad.
It was an odd moment. I don't see Cal upset that often, particularly not by anything other than--say--me frustrating him by not letting him do whatever; this was yet one more piece of evidence implying that Cal now pays attention to what's going on around him, be it "C-A-R-S, cars!" as he walks along the street, or animals and littler kids, or neighbourhoods he remembers passing through in order to get somewhere. Weather's never been a big deal for him, and I see him fearful so seldom that it really stands out. It's good, evolutionary, but it reminds me just how atypical my mothering experience has been, in some ways.
And then I came home to more memorials on Ray Bradbury, who I think I love best from his short stories, particularly things like "The Veldt", "The Ugly Little Boy" (looked up the CBC adaptation of that on Youtube, and Jesus does it still make me weep outright), "Mars is Heaven", "All Summer in One Day", "The Small Assassin", "The Man Upstairs" and "There Will Come Soft Rains". It's fairly obvious where my proclivities lay, even back then, but his work was so poetic, so apt. Never a wrong word. I particularly feel it right now, having just fought my way to 800 new words and knowing they're quite probably as "wrong", but not how to fix them. Not yet.
Okay, it's time to go to bed. Cal got into summer school, thank God. Now I just have to find him something to do in August.
"Are you okay, bunny?" I asked. "Are you worried?"
"I'm worried," he replied, very clearly.
"You look worried," I said. "But seriously, it's okay. Mommy will do everything she can to make sure things turn out all right."
And I reached over and stroked his cheek, which he seemed to enjoy; he dug his chin into my palm and sort of leaned on it, like he was going to go to sleep. And then he went back to his iPad.
It was an odd moment. I don't see Cal upset that often, particularly not by anything other than--say--me frustrating him by not letting him do whatever; this was yet one more piece of evidence implying that Cal now pays attention to what's going on around him, be it "C-A-R-S, cars!" as he walks along the street, or animals and littler kids, or neighbourhoods he remembers passing through in order to get somewhere. Weather's never been a big deal for him, and I see him fearful so seldom that it really stands out. It's good, evolutionary, but it reminds me just how atypical my mothering experience has been, in some ways.
And then I came home to more memorials on Ray Bradbury, who I think I love best from his short stories, particularly things like "The Veldt", "The Ugly Little Boy" (looked up the CBC adaptation of that on Youtube, and Jesus does it still make me weep outright), "Mars is Heaven", "All Summer in One Day", "The Small Assassin", "The Man Upstairs" and "There Will Come Soft Rains". It's fairly obvious where my proclivities lay, even back then, but his work was so poetic, so apt. Never a wrong word. I particularly feel it right now, having just fought my way to 800 new words and knowing they're quite probably as "wrong", but not how to fix them. Not yet.
Okay, it's time to go to bed. Cal got into summer school, thank God. Now I just have to find him something to do in August.
