Who Am I?

Serious Thoughts, Serious Racer

“Who am I?”  she said.  “Are you lightening??” I said.  She shook her head no.  “Are you Wall-E”??? I said.  She shook her head no. ”Emma?”  Again no. ”Give me a clue,” I said.  She stared at me blankly. 

I was exhausted, my fascination with the fantasy world and her rapidly changing avitar was running low.  I was tired of being Mater, towing every idyllic daydream around; tired of being Eeeeva, forcing green things down after I was long since full to coax a few fibrous morsels into Wall-E. 

 ”Who am I?”  She said again.  I glanced at her staring blankly at me, hollow eyes, as if she was truly waiting to assume a persona once dubbed.  “If you don’t know who I am, I’m nobody,” she said.

 ”Ok” I said. 

“I don’t want to be nobody” she said.  

No, I thought, that doesn’t sound healthy, unsure of how to end this cyclic ruse.  Was she truly being metaphysical or was she as bored of her favorite characters as I was.  Maybe she had tired of being the fastest race car, always on top, self absorbed and brash.  Maybe she had  tired of being the old, rusty robot, best friends with Beetle,  searching endlessly for love with someone out of his league.  It made sense really, neither of these characters stripped down were very appealing to me. 

I gave her a big hug.  “Do you need some attention?” I asked. 

“Who am I?” she answered, staring back at me blankly.  “Well…I’m Mater” I said with a sigh, “so…you must be Lightening”.  She frowned.  “Lightening McQueen” she stated bluntly.  “Of course”. 

Thank goodness, our personality disorders had abated. I towed her off the chair and into my lap for a big hug.  She wriggled away and jumped down racing off.  “Who are you Mommy?”  she shouted. Don’t confuse me I thought, I have enough trouble figuring that out on my own these days.

Love of leaves falling

Pat, pat pat.  He trod down the walk, feet rustling the leaves.  He stopped to look up at the sky as a few sparce rain drops splatted him in the face.  Hand out stretched, he turned slowly, then looked back and me and smiled slyly.  Pat, pat pat, the wind ruffled his white blond hair as he cooed, brrrrrr, cold.  He stooped and slowly, carefully bent down to admire a stick, turning it over in his chubby little hand, feeling it, examining it, tasting it.  I watched in amusement his fascination with the mundane, it was inspiring really.  Why couldn’t we all have such appreciation for the beauty that surrounds us, the sights, the smells, the sensations.  He giggled and displayed a toothy grin as he shoved a handful of dirt into his mouth.  We’ve learned… I suppose that’s the word for it… discovered that dirt tastes metallic, gritty,  sticks are common, and rain… a nuisance.  We know that rustling leaves will be there day after day, autumn come autumn.  Or will they?  I paused, breathing the cool air, listening to the polluting sound of the whirring leaf blowers as neighbors raced to eliminate every leaf before the rains turned them into a soggy,  smothering mess.  Perhaps if we appreciated the little things more, we could be more assured they would be there for the next little one to explore with wonderment.   I turned back to my explorer and gave his big, squishy, muddy cheeks a giant smooch.  He smiled, blue eyes twinkling. I grabbed him and we rolled in the leaves laughing.  Lucky for me, his fascination, his joy was infectious.