The Gorilla is in the middle of shooting a movie right now. He started it earlier this fall and won’t be done until we’re well into next year. I do not know what’s like to have a husband who works the night shift at a factory, or 9-5 at a bank. I only know what’s like to have a husband who makes movies. And what is very glamorous and exciting at times is also very grueling and long. Even in his position, he is often a slave to others’ schedules, just one part in a huge machine.
We are lucky that in this economy, in this entertainment climate, that he is working and that his television shows and movies are successful. Well, we’re partially lucky. I give the other part over to the aforementioned hard work.
In the past week I have received tragic news about childhood friends. These are not girls - women, now - that I have talked to in decades. These are not people that I have even thought of in months before their names came around cushioned by the very worst words.
They live there, in my childhood memories. Before there was death, before there was accidents, before there was pain. In my memories, likely in fact the last time I saw them, we are all very young and we are cheering. They would have stayed that way in my mind had it not been for now I know more of their life story and I wish I didn’t. I wish that wasn’t their life story.
When you find out news like this, through third or sixth party, through the internet, there are times when it can seem as distant as if you’re hearing about a stranger on the nightly news. And then there are times when you weep in sadness for how hard this world can be.
It is not my loss, I won’t accept condolences. But if it can happen to them, it can happen to me. And we are of that age now, when life happens and it is no longer a stunning statistic, but just...life. And death. That is terrifying. We are just little kids.
My son has taken his first steps recently, sinking eventually to his knees and looking upward expectantly for our cheers. We dutifully oblige him, again and again. My daughter is advanced in many ways, straddling the line between true toddler and little kid. We talk about things, my girl and me. She wants to wear a dress every single day. She wants to snuggle with daddy, every single day.
But I’m back with my son. Small steps, then sinking to my knees.
