June 5, 2007
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sprinklers watering your lawn while it rains
and other such irony.
i asked John what he wanted to be when he grew up.
J: a father. (serious sigh) i want to be a good parent.
R: who told you to say all that?
J: no one.
shall we believe him? i took John to swimming lessons. he looks so little watching him from the bleachers. every time i look at him he is wiping his nose. we need to talk about that.
back at the youth center. love it. played at the park with the little kids. they love me and think i am the fastest thing alive. my feet were so dirty that they said i was finally turning black. yesssssss. i found this in my journal from January and thought it relevant:
i am gonna miss this psycho version of what is called the ghetto. i’ll probably have weird random dreams in Brasil about driving the van “butt fulla kids” or someone getting shot (happened twice last year). maybe having the SWAT team come in because the neighbor went crazy from some bad drugs…maybe about being joaned on. i got called “Steve Nash with a hair cut” the other day. maybe i’ll dream about life and love and tears and sharing and “How are you and God?” Maybe i’ll hear about people leaving and coming and changing and growing and running away. Sometimes i won’t miss the ghetto. the expectation. the “i deserve this and more” the “give me something free” the “no, that isn’t good enough” instead of a thank you. the stuckness–”i want to do the right thing,but i just can’t. the waiting. gosh they take forever to get ready. the sick jokes. sometimes, i really don’t want to know what you are thinking. the meanness–or plain lack of kindness. it is like being nice or kind is “weak.” you are part of the group when they are mean to you. sometimes i’d rather not be part of the group. those little lines of “Everyone hates you Ms.Rachel, why don’t you go home.” replay a thousand times over. they dig my soul. they take away something soft and innocent that i value very much. the chip on their shoulder. they know what to do. they feel bad if they don’t–but don’t you dare go and point it out. Don’t you dare say they are wrong–it is always someone else’s fault. “yeah, i just picked up that girl and slammed her on the ground–but you play favorites and never did nothing when she…” and then the “so yeah, i will feel bad about this tomorrow, but i don’t know how to apologize so i never will…but for now, i will disrespect you and make you feel like the most insignificant person on the planet…”
And then there are the hugs and “Ms.Rachel, watch me” like if i am watching i give them superpowers–they can fly only if they are noticed. there are the”How was your day?” and genuine “you look like you are gonna cry–i got your back–tell me a name and i will beat them up for you.” they are so proud to be taller than me now. old kids stop by every once in awhile to show us they are alive and remember that at least one thing in their childhood was real and it is still true. it is the best of life–laughing and playing hard and not hiding–and the worst of it–pain and ugliness and protecting yourself by destroying another. i love it. i hate it.
