14 November 2002
Scooters
by
Nanci Olesen
Out in our back alley are two little bikey
things: two little scooter thingies, that
toddlers can sit on and push with their
little legs to drive around on the sidewalk.
They were given to our oldest son when he
was a toddler. They have now made it all
the way through our current lineage, through
three kids, and they're up for grabs, for
the first taker on the block, so that THEIR
very own toddler can scoot around in the
back yard or on the sidewalk at a turtle's
pace with a happy happy face.
We cleaned the garage yesterday and I must
say I have a large brick lodged somewhere
between my heart and my throat. Not only
did we put those two little scooty thingies
out for the taking, but we also cleared
out old buckets and little trucks and plastic
shovels that are broken and set aside. Then,
in the basement, we cleaned the storage
room. We unearthed boxes of drawings from
each child and art projects from Early Childhood
Family Education classes.
I threw most of these away, after one last
look, but I was careful to keep just a few
from each... I am thinking of making a little
planter out of the tiniest little sneaker
that our little Henry wore on his foot when
he was one and a half. I have a teeny little
clay pot that fits in the sneaker and I
have a cutting off a philodendron that has
grown its own straggly roots and can now
be safely transplanted into some soil. I
just want to do this little project and
have his little sneaker with a little potted
plant growing out of it in my little office
so I can remember his little, little self.
I have a friend who took a sleeper, the
cozy zipper kind from her baby's six month-old
days. She put it up—over the curtain—in
their dining room. At first, it looked like
drying laundry. It looked normal. But then
it became more and more unusual, to see
how very small this sleeper is and how very
big the boy was becoming. I love that little
sleeper. That boy just celebrated his 13th
birthday and he can jump on his bike and
just ride right over to our house whenever
he wants.
And that other boy, the boy who wore the
little sneaker that I am going to put the
little plant in, well, of course I help
him with his homework nowadays, and ask
him about his day at school, and remind
him to turn off his light at 9:30 in the
evening.... I know this is nothing very
amazing. It happened to all of US. We all
outgrew OUR scootie little trikey things
and our soft little mint-colored sleepers
and our size extra-small sneakers with red
and white laces.
But I have a feeling that our own moms
must have had this very same brick wedged
between THEIR heart and THEIR throat as
they cleaned THEIR garages and basements
and sorted through all of OUR stuff and
put it in bags and hauled it off to give
to other moms and other little babies, saving
for themselves little mementos of our tininess.
We pass the brick in our hearts from mom
to mom, and we stand in our garages and
sob, thinking of the passage of time.
—Nanci Olesen
producer and host, MOMbo: 1990-2007 |
