"No" is the Friday word of the day, thanks to Mona. And to Maggie, who pointed me toward last week's word. Some of this is straight reportage, from conversations overheard on the baby monitor.
Are you sleepin?
No.
(pause)
What’re you thinkin?
About Other Mommy.
What about Other Mommy?
Where she is.
Where?
In the Other House. She lives there.
Can we go there?
Yes.
Will you take me there?
No.
Why?
We live here now.
(pause)
Can we go there tomorrow?
Yes.
Where Other Mommy is?
Yes.
(pause)
Where is Other Mommy?
Across the ocean. She lives there.
Where the war is?
Yes.
Can you see her?
No.
Is she in a hole?
No.
Can we go there?
Yes.
Will you take me there?
No.
Why?
We live here now.
(pause)
Will you take me tomorrow?
Yes.
When?
Tomorrow.
To Other Mommy?
Yes.
(pause)
Where is Other Mommy?
In a hole.
She’s in a hole?
Yes. She lives there.
She lives in the hole?
Yes.
Can she talk to us?
Yes.
What will she tell us?
It’s time to go to sleep.
(pause)
Okay.
(pause)
Are you sleepin?
No.
(pause)
Is that other man with Mommy?
No. He’s gone.
Is he in the hole?
Yes.
In the Other House?
Yes.
In a hole in the Other House?
Yes.
With Other Mommy?
Yes.
Can he talk to us?
Yes.
What will he tell us?
It’s time to go to sleep.
(pause)
Okay.
(pause)
Are you sleepin?
No.
(pause)
Is it time to go to sleep?
Yes.
I’m going to sleep now.
(pause)
Okay?
(pause)
Are you sleepin?
No.
10 comments:
Wanted to drop a line to let you know I'm completely intrigued by this blog.
I love the poem. The way kids communicate and understand each other. repetatively getting to the core of what they either cannot comprehend or think they do.
but. I have to say that I am somewhat lost by the poem. are these your kids? was this a made up game?
Thanks for dropping by, Eric. Always nice to meet another Cormac fan. I've done the whole sending-the novel-to-agents-and-waiting thing (got some kind words, but never got it published). You've likely got a few months of nail biting ahead of you. Good luck!
Glad you liked the poem, Maggie. Yes, they are our kids, albeit slightly fictionalized. We have two adopted girls, now 6 and 5. They're not from overseas, but from the town we live in. They were 1 and 3 when they came into our lives. They have lots of fantasies, though very few actual memories, of their birth Mom. Their birth Dad was quite the assh*le, apparently. Our youngest was scared of all men for the first year or so. I had to work pretty hard to get her to overcome it. Doing so successfully is one of the prouder accomplishments of my life.
Wow! So interesting and well done from a unique viewpoint. I just love the last 2 lines! Perfect!
Speaking of Cormac, which I often do, your kids read like The Road.
Novel's about two best friends who drop out of high school to fight in a war. I don't often elaborate from there. Happy to see a fellow writer. Thank you for the comment.
Fantastic! You totally captured the staccato of speech and kids and questioning patter. Although at first I thought it was a mother and child talking, because it sounded so much like my daughter and me...without the holes and Other Mommies!
And I just put you on my Cool List for featuring Godzilla and Godzookie in your previous post...I was weaned on such stuff! (I always like Gamera myself....)
Thank you so much for sharing that. How sad about your youngest. How wonderful that you took these two in. I love how you capture the ability of children fantasize and believe what they think. This is just lovely.
Ms. Invention, glad you liked the poem. I don't write a lot of poems, but I must admit they're kinda fun to write.
Eric, I blush to be included in the same sentence as Cormac, but I appreciate the comment. You should excerpt the novel on your blog.
Gamara rocks, Mona! And those little fat boy scouts that ride around on his back, they rock too! Ever see Mystery Science Theater 3000? They've put a bunch of Gamara movies through the MST3 blender. Hilarious.
Maggie, thanks again for your kind comments. And for pointing me toward Poetry Friday. I hope to be a regular contributer.
CC, big huge pat on the back for overcoming the little one's fears--I shaved my beard off for a job when my little one was a toddler and she didn't recognise me for two days. I was CRUSHED. I can't imagine having to deal with a year-long morbid fear. You're a strong guy for working through that.
As for the poem? Whoooooo! It's got a strange, disjointed etherealness to it that I realllly like, sort of like the offspring of Yves Tanguy and Neil Gaiman.
Howdy!
Nancy sent me! (But you knew that.)
Love Cormac.
Miss Mystery Science Theatre.
Love the poem/conversation.
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