Thursday, July 17, 2008

Smiles. Skooby's. Suppositions. Scripts.

Pablo smiles. Pablo laughs. Pablo is a raconteur. He tells stories through a tight grin. His dimples look as if they might pop off his cheeks. When Pablo is happy, we are all happy. When Pablo is distraught, screaming, in pain, no appetite, the tension courses through me, Jo Ann, Grady, Polly. We want so badly for Pablo to just be OK. It's like being around a rock star or a champion athlete. If he is OK, we is OK. If he is not OK, we is all trying to find a way to get him OK. Or just leave him alone so he can beeeeeeee.

Yesterday, Pablo recited the through line of a 'Max And Ruby' show. I listened as if it were a lost Hitchcock script. His eyes glistened. And that smile, it conveyed joy, passion, purpose. You'd have sworn Max and Ruby were kids from down the way, lifelong homies. You'd have sworn Pablo lived the story he was telling. This kid wants so badly to communicate, to relate, that he is practicing his craft shucking used stories about polite cartoon animals. I love it. The chemo can't slow the blood in his veins. Can't impede the throughline of his life.

Yesterday, we took Grandpa (my dad) to my office, and to lunch at Skooby's hot dog stand on Hollywood Boulevard. My dad hasn't been to LA in 30+ years. Holy smokes! We took him by all the studios in Burbank, and to the Rose Bowl, and then to see St. Francis high school and Pasadena Waldorf, so he knows where his boys are going to learn their stuff in the fall. Then, as Pablo was fast asleep in the back seat, we took him up Angeles Crest about five miles. He loved the view and the insanity that such beauty was so close to the dystopian malaise of LA.

Polly and Jo Ann have said many times that Pablo makes them better persons. I get it. The things he says when no one else is around just kill us. I always try to remember what he just said, and I never do. It's too hard. Like having a grain of sand for a pet. Far beyond cute, his words, his thoughts, his questions and suppositions are a constant stream of moments. One day when he is older we'll sit around the table and tell him about him until he can't take it anymore. At the right moment, we'll all recall enough Pabmoments to fill an afternoon.

He is a brutal competitor when it comes to games. He learned that from his mommy. He does whatever you tell him not to do. He learned that from his papa. He is a sweet snuggly loverboy. He learned that from Grady. And he is sleeping. I need to be next to him in bed.

Good night everyone!

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