In the Mouths of Children
By capoeiragem
- 1820 reads
‘Your children are not your children,
They are the sons and daughters of life’s longing for itself’
Khalil Gibran
---------------------------------------------------
‘Don’t play with your cereal Daniel, mummy and daddy will be home soon with baby James, you want to be ready in time to see your new brother don’t you?’
The child at the table looked up into his grandmother’s eyes, her enormous, hopeful eyes and nodded silently, simultaneously letting the contents of his spoon slide miserably back into the bright orange cereal bowl.
‘I mean it Daniel, if you’ve not finished by the time I get back from putting out the washing…’ she hesitated for a second, and then, softening the tone of her voice ever so slightly, ‘then, well, there will be trouble’. As a gesture of good will the boy gathered up a few stray hoops and, holding the spoon up to his mouth, took a couple of less than enthusiastic mouthfuls before allowing the rest to drip back into the bowl, causing small drops of milk to splash around the sides. Not entirely convinced, but without the heart for any further reprimand, the woman turned and marched into the kitchen, leaving a faint scent of violets trailing in her wake.
Daniel watched his grandmother disappear into the next room before turning his attention towards the living room window, fixing on an unknown spot in the distance with a sudden intensity magnified by the piercing clear blue of his eyes and, sat cross-legged in his chair, and with his child’s brow furrowed deep in a long and seemingly profound contemplation, he was suddenly reminiscent of a miniature Buddha, an image betrayed only by the shock of tousled, jet black hair pointing out at all angles and directions from the top of his head. After a few silent moments he returned to his cereal bowl and, with a look that seemed heavier than before, as if weighed down by a profound and adult sadness, he stared at his breakfast and thrust a few more hurried spoonfuls into his mouth before leaving the table and, bowl in hand, following his grandmother into the kitchen. She was out in the garden now, hanging his father’s shirts next to his own smaller ones, and peering over the counter Daniel could just about make out some of his mother’s clothes further down the line, a realisation that caused him to dip his head slightly before emptying the remaining contents of his bowl into the sink.
‘Did you finish?’ his grandmother asked before taking the empty bowl from Daniel’s outstretched hands and placing it on the side. Daniel nodded slowly before allowing himself to take his grandmother’s hand as she led him back through the kitchen and into the hallway, past the picture of dogs dressed in shirt and tie, huddled round a table playing cards with serious expressions on their faces that always made him laugh, and past the picture of him and his parents, all smiles and laughter, hung proudly by the front door and enclosed by a plain silver picture frame.
‘Okay then Danno, let’s climb the wooden hill and get you ready, they’ll be back any minute’, his grandmother uttered, to herself more than anyone else, and as they marched up the stairs Daniel looked up into her eyes, focused straight on the task ahead as if anticipating and planning a manoeuvre of the utmost military precision. She barely uttered a word as she led him into his room, removing his pyjamas and dressing him carefully in a pair of small jeans and a bright red sweater, and Daniel suddenly found himself staring at the superman poster stuck to the wall next to his wardrobe for no particular reason other than that it was there. He remained silent, passive, as his grandmother sat him on the edge of the bed and slipped a pair of small blue shoes over the top of his dangling feet, and for a moment he was lost again in a strange Buddha pose of far off contemplation, his child’s mind not there in the room but somewhere else, somewhere vague and impossible and mysterious and lonely, before the sound of a car horn and a key turning in the front door brought the rest of the room sharply into focus and caused him to turn his head quickly, automatically towards the door.
‘Jackie? Danno?’
‘Up here John!’ Daniel’s grandmother answered, turning to him and flashing a wide open smile that seemed to burst at the seams, reminding him of the look on her face whenever he told her made up stories or asked her funny questions, like the time he had asked in all seriousness whether dogs and cats were allowed to get married. Then she had laughed and so had he, their laughter filling the room together, but now her smile was different, and for a brief moment Daniel thought she seemed like a stranger.
‘Come on Danno, let’s go see your new baby brother’, and suddenly she was leading him out of his bedroom and back downstairs, where Daniel could see his father’s face smiling up at him from inside the hallway.
‘Hey spud, what’s up, are you being shy today?’ he asked as he moved forward and picked Daniel up, ruffling his hair and kissing his forehead before setting him back down on the floor. Daniel forced a reluctant smile that did nothing to distract from the quiet sadness in his eyes, and his father hesitated for a moment, furrowing his brow in concern and leaning forward as if to say something, before the sudden disruption of his grandmother’s voice caused him to withdraw without further comment.
‘Sarah, sweetheart, how are you? And this must be James, oh he’s beautiful, and John he has your eyes…’ She moved in and kissed her daughter, who had just arrived at the door, on the cheek before hovering over the small bundle of blankets cradled in her arms and making a series of erratic facial gestures, blowing up her cheeks and shaking her head from side to side, making baby noises and tracing her fingers playfully over the contents of the ragged bundle, causing a strange gurgling sound to rise from within. Daniel watched his mother carefully, watched the joy in her eyes as she held the small child in her arms, and that of his father as he leaned in over the two of them, making similarly eccentric gestures and laughing.
‘Danno, say hello to your new baby brother, say hello to James’
Daniel leaned in and, on tip toes, studied the baby casually and seemingly without interest before falling back onto his heels and asking his mother if he could hold him.
Faintly startled, his mother composed herself into a smile before telling Daniel that maybe he could hold him later, but that for now James was very tired and needed to sleep, and that she was going to take him up to his room for a lie down. Daniel nodded quietly at this and stared down at the ground, a gesture that prompted his mother to put her hand to his head and hold it there for a brief moment of consolation before drifting towards the bottom of the stairs as if in a dream, followed closely by his grandmother. He watched them both disappear up the stairs, watched the small white package which contained his brother rocking gently back and forth in his mother’s arms, until there was nothing left but empty steps and the faint murmur of activity behind him, a vague sound that floated all around him like an unintelligible mist, something about cups of tea mingled with the muffled sound of shoes knocking against a smooth wooden floor and the slow pulse of a heartbeat, his father placing his hand on his shoulder and turning him towards the kitchen in a sudden blur of motion that Daniel couldn’t quite comprehend.
After he had finished watching his father making the tea, Daniel followed him into the living room and saw his mother and grandmother sat next to each other on the sofa, having returned from the task of putting his brother to bed, gesticulating happily and speaking to each other in warm, animated tones. His father coughed and placed the two cups of tea that he had carried into the room onto placemats, a gesture that resulted in a chorus of thankyou’s from the two women, and which he met with a cordial smile and elaborate bow that caused Daniel’s mother to laugh and tap him playfully. Daniel hovered by the door and watched the three smiling faces, simultaneously pulling on the sleeve of his red sweater between the middle and index fingers of his left hand, rolling the hot woolly texture in his palm.
‘Come here Dan, come give your mummy a hug, I missed you while I was gone’
Daniel moved towards his mother’s outstretched hands and buried his head dutifully in her arms, but lingered only for a brief moment before pulling himself away and wandering off to the other side of the room, sitting down on the carpet and occupying himself with a toy fire engine that had been left out by the front of the television. His mother held her mouth open and with wide eyes looked as if she was about to speak before his father whispered something in her ear, causing her to close her mouth and let the words that had formed at the tip of her tongue roll back into her throat unsaid. She watched him incredulously for a minute before calling his name softly.
‘Daniel, Daniel sweetheart, you know that just because James is here it doesn’t mean me and daddy love you any less, you’re still my special boy, you know that right?’
Daniel turned his head, looked into his mother’s eyes and nodded slowly, offering a faint smile before returning to the fire engine, rolling its bright blue wheels up and down in a straight line on the carpet and making quiet whirring noises as the blue and red lights flashed intermittently from inside the plastic siren. Daniel’s father placed his hand on his mother’s shoulder and smiled, nodding his head as if to say it’ll be okay, that Daniel just needed some time, and his mother nodded slowly, joining in as best as she could with the conversation that Daniel’s grandmother had tactfully initiated, unable to stop herself from snatching occasional glances at her son playing quietly on the carpet.
Daniel continued to play in front of the television for a little while before standing up and rolling the fire engine over to the door and out into the hallway, making muffled siren noises as he guided the vehicle along the wooden floor and to a quiet stop at the bottom of the staircase. He looked up at the carpeted incline and turned his head to check no one was watching him, before gathering the fire engine up from the floor and lifting his feet quietly up onto the stairs, measuring his ascent carefully. When he got to the top he placed the fire engine back down on to the ground and, concentrating with a strange intensity on the flashing blue and red lights of the siren, guided the toy vehicle past his bedroom door and silently into his parent’s room.
There he left the red truck by the door, looked up and saw the white crib underneath the window, the baby monitor resting on the window sill projecting sporadic bursts of faint blue light into the darkened room. Daniel walked slowly over to the crib and paused for a moment, before reaching up and climbing up on the side, peering over the top and down at his brother, who was wide awake and kicking his legs and arms in an uncoordinated fashion that was reminiscent of an upside down beetle. Daniel smiled at the baby for a moment, before growing suddenly serious and straightening up at the side of the crib, his small blue shoes resting precariously on the protruding wooden edge at the bottom. He leaned in closer, looking carefully into the carefree blue eyes of his younger brother, and uttered something so quiet that it barely produced a whisper.
‘James, what does God’s face looks like again? Please tell me, I’m beginning to forget’
And the small child looked up, his tiny forehead lined with wrinkles that were a subtle parody of reason, and suddenly burst into a shallow giggle, his lips widening into a smile that seemed to hold the entire universe inside it’s delicate periphery, his face illuminated by a gentle flutter of light that seemed to lift them both out of the crib in that moment and onto soft tender clouds made of silk and the most beautiful and distant music, the peaceful and unmitigated sound of a child’s laughter.
Daniel joined in and smiled, watching his brother for a while, before climbing back down from the side of the crib and walking back over to the bedroom door, picking up his fire engine as he went. And as he left the room, carrying his fire engine back downstairs and into the rest of time, he turned and whispered gentle words that hung delicately in the air, words that drifted in the music of the baby’s smile, quiet, simple words, that floated over to the other side of the room and hovered for a single moment over the plastic of the baby monitor before fading in the flashing blue of the small indicator light.
‘Oh yes, I remember, I can see him now. Thank you brother’. And the small baby’s round face seemed to form a tiny, imperceptible nod of recognition, his eyes suddenly appearing older than the beginning of time, his tiny smile and the soft gurgle of his laughter seeming to carry on forever from his crib, folding into eternity.
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Comments
Well I enjoyed this, you
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I think that it works really
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willow I think it is a
Arrow
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No, not really our children
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