20 May 2013

by jkatejohnston

Dear Max,

Every morning when he wakes up Enzo walks out to the living room and climbs into my lap. When I hear his feet in the hallway I quickly save what I’ve been writing and put my laptop aside. I sit cross-legged on the couch, and he climbs silently aboard. He curls up sideways with his shoulder between my boobs and his head on my shoulder and his feet pulled up into a loose fetal position. He says nothing for a long time. He closes his eyes and pinches the loose skin on my elbow, as he always has since he was a baby.

It feels like the last days of his little-kid-hood are racing through our fingers.

Yesterday afternoon Enzo and I were planning to go to the pool. Then he got invited to Isaac’s house, and off he went. I read and took a nap, made caramelized onions with red pepper and a bit of star anise and ginger, and it was heavenly but a tiny bit lonely. Friends are so important to him now, as they never were for me when I was little, because I had my sisters, and he just has us.

A couple of times a week Enzo goes to Fourth R for a few hours. It’s a childcare program at the school. One of his best friends, Magnus, is in there all the time, before school and after. So when Enzo comes, the people who work there call out, “Magnus, Enzo’s here,” and Magnus comes running over.

“Enzie!”

“Maggie!”

And then they hug.

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