In the month of October, I am going to try to write 31 poems.

I will not mandate a length for a poem.
I will not mandate style of the poems, though I will try to explore as many styles as possible, to further my appreciation of poetry in general.
I will not insist that the poems be written one a day, but I understand that would be a logical, attainable goal.
I will be setting a theme for my poems, so that I stay on track, and get ready for the thematic and plot requirements I’ll be trying to follow for NaNoWriMo.

September 11, 2009 (written a couple of weeks late)

Dear Hayden,

The past year has been gone by too quickly. I miss my little boy who would curl up with me, run to me for kisses on boo-boos, and allow me to fawn all over him. But, as much as I might miss that little boy, I love the young man you’ve become. The one who swears he still does those things with me…. And granted, you are right, sometimes. That night we had a stomach bug in the house, you woke up at 1 am, got most of it out of your system and on the hall floor, and then required me to sleep in your twin bed with you for the rest of the night.

You started kindergarten this fall, and you’ve taken to it much like you take to many other things, with full enthusiasm. There are certainly times you would prefer to not work on your homework (which is few and far between so far - weekends are the worst), and you still generally give the answer of “Nothing” when we ask you what you did today. But when we prod, you tend to come up with something exciting that happened. Generally it has to do with how many times you got to go outside, if you got to go to the library, or if you had Music or Art.

You still go to Tutor Time before and after kindergarten, and your behavior with Gabe each morning warms my heart. He follows you in the door, and that pads behind you to where you hang your bookbag (the *farthest* hook down that hall). If we’re early (which is not very often) we go to Gabe’s room. You put down your breakfast and proceed to give him a goodbye ritual. Hugs, kisses, high fives, calling “Bye, Brother!” as you pick up your breakfast and head across the hall. You are kind and gentle with him each morning, patient and forgiving. (This does generally change by the time dinner rolls around, but he is your little brother, so I understand.)

When I come to say goodbye, we go through a long ritual still. Kisses, hugs, cheek hugs, eye kisses, high fives, zerberts, secrets (which have been that “Hulk is the best Super Hero” and “Gabe is the best baby” for as long as I can remember). Then, I leave the room, and head outside. We wave, hug the air, blow kisses, do a karate chop and an air fist bump. Finally, you allow me to turn and go to the van. As I drive past the window, you wave and smile. Then you run to the next window, throw me an air hug. I continue, slowly, riding the brakes, and you run to the third and final window. A final wave, and we’re parted for the day.

During your school day, you still get excited about computer classes and soccer at Tutor Time. You still eat nothing but fruit and carbs at lunch time. When I see you in the evening, you’re generally outside with Daddy and Gabe, kicking a soccer ball, playing with a frisbee I brought back from the beach, or playing with swords. When we come in for dinner, you still eat nothing but carbs and the occasional chicken nugget (but again, it’s covered in carbs). There are often arguments over toys with Gabe, but in general, you are a patient big brother, ready to offer a trade to get what you want.

We have loved the new neighborhood, mostly for the ability to go for walks in the evenings or on the weekends. One of your favorite friends from Tutor Time (Connor) lives a couple of blocks away, and there are a couple of other boys, Nicky and Dave, who have a great jungle gym in their backyard. Our neighbors across the street (Ms. Julie and Mr. Bruce) have a dog named Shadow. Given your past fears of all things dog, I am still amazed at how well you took to the dog. You love going to give him treats and making him do tricks for you.

In your new bedroom, we recently started decorating according to your wishes: Space themed. We got vinyl wall hangings in plants, stars, spaceships, meteors, and an alien. Your bedspread has aliens all over it. Alien toys are huge for you, and the alien T-shirt we got on a whim for your birthday was opened with a loud, gleeful sound of “Whhhhhhoooooo-eeeee!”

Your quirks that I want to make sure I always remember: Spontenudity is still a strong on with you. Your lego buildings are always nearly perfectly symmetrical. If I look at you with a quizzical look about any of your food pairing requests, you are likely to eat it all without any further comment from me (such as the cheeto in the strawberry flavored water smoothie you insisted on making after you saw that Gabe had done it). You always want to get in the bath first. You are fine with morning kisses in front of numerous other kids, but if I try to give you a goodnight kiss, you wipe it off and rub it on my shoulder. You love to hide, your favorite spots being under the kitchen sink in the downstairs bathroom and behind the chair in the library.

I will miss the little boy you were, who writes his e backwards in his first name and writes his middle name SamNel. I can’t wait for you to become the man I know you can be.

Love,
Mommy

Now I can bring a woman back to my place and brag about how I hunt the plush children of the ancient gods who slumber in the deep places waiting to devour us.

Oh, Let me show you the slippers I made out of him too

I’m way behind, but still trying to hit 50 by the end of 2009…

The splits between narrators, what each believes to be a reality, and the interpretations of magic make this book enjoyable for me. From each perspective, we are given a different clue as to who Henry is, why he is what he is, and what his outcome may be. But never are we given a definite resolution, much as in standard life. Each individual has their own way of looking at the world, of creating their version of truth from each piece of data they are given. The voices found within Wallace’s novel, explaining the life and passing of Henry, each create their own reality, and never can a reader be sure of which is the ultimate one.

I, personally, don’t believe there is an ultimate truth in Wallace’s depiction of Henry Walker’s life, and that is a true beauty of the novel to me. How often does an author give so much insight into a character, and yet leave so much to interpretation of the reader? Wallace makes a point that life is about your resolutions, your determinations, your interpretations. Other readers may be disappointed that there isn’t a more formal moral or a stronger theme to the book, but to me, it was an enjoyable read, with a unique twist to what authors often try so hard to instill in their readers: belief.

Thanks for 8 years of making me feel like this: