My husband and I and my two sons, Jacob and Eli, are just finishing dinner. As usual my boys are going to eat and run. Jacob leaves the house first. He is heading out to his second job of delivering pizza. Then Eli turns around to head toward the door, but he stops, turns around and glances at the counter then the table. He pats the outside of his pockets a couple times. That's when I know he has lost his keys again. He then reaches deep down inside the pocket of his cargo shorts. At that moment I am taken back in time to Virginia Beach, in the summer of 1986.
Their father was in the Navy. He was finally on shore duty. His next three years would be teaching other sailors at a very small base called Damneck. The relationship between Eli and his dad was beautiful. You see, I worried because when his father left for his first cruise aboard the USS Biddle Eli was about eight- months old. When he returned after six months, his father walked in to our apartment and Eli looked up at him and then turned, without recognition, to finish playing with whatever superhero and castle he was now attempting to conquer. His father was devastated. His own son did not know who he was.
With the return of the USS Biddle came more family time. One of our outings included a ship's picnic. We mingled with friends and watched our children play. And then we noticed Eli on the curly slide...forming some type of a bizarre pattern with each slide down. We saw that as he raced up the ladder and rode the slick metal around and eventually down, both of his feet were hitting the brown dirt at the same time which would send little puffs of dust into the air around his feet. He would then reach deep down in his pocket and bring his hand out. He would look closely down into his palm then cup it with the other small chubby hand. He took one more peak inside his fists and put his hand back in his pocket. As fast as his little legs could carry him he would go around to the back of the slide to once again wait his turn for the curly slide. We counted; he did this five times. We decided to meet him at the bottom of the slide his last time down and around.
His father said, "Hey, Little Man, whatcha got in your pocket?" We both leaned down and took a knee as he reached deep down into his pocket. He brought his hand out already in a fist. Then, as if he was showing us a secret hidden treasure he slowly unfolded and opened his little fingers. His father and I leaned in, slowly and with caution to see what could possibly be in his hands. Right there, in the middle of his palm, was the biggest, most wiggliest (this has to be a word!) black and orange caterpillar we had ever seen.
Eli thrust it toward his father, who was at his eye level now, and said, "Can you keep him for me in your pocket?" His father reached for the caterpillar but Eli abruptly pulled it back and cupped it over. He then looked straight into his father's eyes and said very sternly, "Don't sqwoosh it!"
Now, as we stand in the kitchen and watch Eli dig through his pockets I couldn't help smile. Once again- fourteen years later-I watch Eli, once again, searching his pockets for his "treasure". Some things never change.
MELENIE CRUTCHER / ENGLISH 101/ONLINE / SUMMER 2001
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