Driving to Houston

He had borrowed a friend's Gameboy (a new, blue SP) for the ride to Columbus. It wasn't long after we left that the conversation fell off, and he began playing.

You have to leave it in the car, I said, looking over at the blue box in his lap that had so quickly absorbed all his attention. You can't take it to their house.

Ok, he said without looking up.

...

As you and I were saying hellos and goodbyes in the parking lot there in Columbus, he had a slight look of panic on his face. He leaned towards me and whispered in my ear with a silly grin on his face.

Dad... I only have this book for the drive to Houston. (He held up a paperback that was plenty thick.)

What he really meant of course was, Dad... I thought Jack was going to be here, too. Now I won't have anything to do in the car. Now I really DO need that Gameboy. Can I? PLEASE?

That's what he meant. He didn't have to say it. Without breaking our hellos and goodbyes, I glanced over at him with that grin on his face and smiled and shook my head at mouthed, "No." He nodded, acknowledging what he knew to be the inevitable answer.

So when you say that the ride back with him was great, when you talk about talking with him as the golden sun of early evening hit the hay bails in the fields and the llamas stood by the highway and a crested caracara flew overhead, when you say that his insights are good for a kid his age, I can only breathe a sigh of relief that I had the good sense to keep that machine in my car!

7:02:07 AM   permalink: []   feedback:   comments: []