Five years ago yesterday, Willem arrived, fast and furious. We called him the Little Red Man already in the delivery room. His skin, all rosy; his hair, carrot color. After all that mad rush, I remember how he laid in our arms, sweet and still, eyes wide open.
He lives in the same manner that he was born. Fast and furious. And I couldn’t help but think yesterday that with Willem, there is still much red. A red fire engine birthday cake. Red food coloring on the counter. Two frantic cats And how did these animals get in the door without me noticing? all soaped up and wet in the bathroom sink, and a Mama that sees red. “But these cats love baths, Mom!” Later, more noises in the bathroom, another sink full of soapy water, and a swarm of grasshoppers slipping and sliding down the wet mirror in an attempt to escape their “bath.” More red.
The fast and furious red man needs little sleep. This wears on his Mama sometimes, when it’s late afternoon and the mess is piled high and her nerves are all frazzled and all she would like is a little break from the fast and the furious. Today she does not have him help with the dishes. “It’s your birthday, you may do what you like for a bit.” So he’s outside in the pasture with a Sunbutter jar (more grasshoppers), and I watch him while I clean up the frosting and rub at that red spot. Neighbor Don drives up in his tractor to rake the hay lying flat ‘round the barn. I watch my son corner him, who’s going on 80: “Did you know it’s my birthday today? I’m five!” And once Don figures out that his name is not William but Willem he sings “Happy Birthday,” swaying and waving, his seed corn cap coming off with a flourish.
The birthday gift, too, is red. A too-big red bike, not new, but new to Will. I cringe about the tear in the seat, but he doesn’t even notice. Instead, he climbs on, and my Little Red Man pedals fast and furious, his Daddy hurrying behind.
I remember: "The mother is the hub of the home, holding all the spokes in place. Without her being at her post, the family spins out of control and falls apart.”
And I watch him, furiously pedaling away from me, standing here, all this spinning…
I love the way you write! So beautifully done! When I read this it makes me giggle and panic because I fear that my Eli might be similar to your Willem! He has no sit in him and also needs little sleep! whats a mother to do with boys like that??
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