Hush Now, Child

I was talking to a friend the other night and feeling kind of crappy. Not profoundly crappy, not “something has happened directly to me so now I feel crappy” crappy, but something vaguer. Something in the silt at the bottom of the lake that stirs when it rains.

I couldn’t find the shape of things, but I knew a few axes, so I was walking him through what I knew by telling stories and making fun of myself. At one point he interrupted me and asked me if I remembered this night. I didn’t.

“It was a couple years ago, and it had just rained out. You really don’t remember this? So it had rained out, and we were sitting on that gliding bench in your front yard. And you were a mess — young and confused with the world and sunburned. But you were so happy. And wearing socks on the wet grass. And holding a drink and smiling and swaying a little while we talked. And I had this knot in the pit of my stomach because, I don’t even know anymore. I felt untested or incapable or separate. Outside of whatever joy you were feeling. That I’d never be a happy person sitting on a swing like that.

And we were quiet for a minute at one point. And you scrunched your nose and turned to me and asked me if I seen that bug jump in front of us. And I didn’t. You said it was crickets. The crickets were starting up again cause the rain had stopped. Then there was a joke about cricket sex. I don’t really remember it. Just the chirps as, ‘I’m horny. I’m alive. I’m here. I’m a man cricket. I’m a woman cricket.’ And you got up to get another drink from inside, and put your hand on my shoulder as you passed, and you squeezed it and said, ‘I love you and it’s fine.’

When you came back out you were right back in the cricket sex joke, so I guess it makes sense that you wouldn’t remember. But it was such a moment. Of here’s a person on this earth who will squeeze my shoulder and know without being told. Ya know? Here’s my Temple Grandin.

But back to your dumb thing, where were you?”

I’m obviously paraphrasing there, but the key phrases are all present. The voice too, to a lesser extent. Anyway, the story was good. I’m glad he told it. Because sometimes in this world all you need is the person who knows the right way to stop the joke and tell you you matter to them.

And then has the decency to pick the joke back up again.