I have started making a circle around my bed with all the rocks she gives me. I set them almost exactly two inches away from each other to make an invisible force field. Sometimes it gets kicked over, and the rocks tumble under my bed rolling too far away to reach. Some of them I’m not so sure I will ever get back. Have you ever lost anything that you still think about? Sometimes I still think about my favorite Snow White Polly Pocket I lost in the grass a few years ago. At the time, I was so scared that she fell asleep in the wrong place. Now I think I know how she feels.
The truth is, Sofie loves her house and she really loves her family. But I leave Sofie rocks even when things are messy or bad at my house. I know that Sofie looks forward to seeing them on her porch every afternoon. I don’t want to let my only friend down. I try to pick nice rocks for her with smooth surfaces and speckles that don’t have matching colored pencils. Really nice rocks come from Misery Bay, and really, really nice ones come from Marquette when my family used to go watch the ships carry iron away. Lately, I just stick to finding ones in my own neighborhood and always keep a few in my jacket pockets just in case. I think they are helping.
Sofie and I sat at the giant rock again at recess today. We watched the clouds move slowly and gently until they changed completely. A plane eventually flew by. For a moment, I imagined someone reaching out the window and catching one of my balloon letters from the inside. But it just kept flying away until it was in somebody else’s sky. I tried my best not to feel left behind by whoever was in there.
I looked to my side to see if Sofie saw what I saw, but her eyes were closed. She was sound asleep. I wonder what she was dreaming about. A small snore blew between the gaps of her new adult teeth. Our recess rock’s shadow made a blue blanket over her whole entire body. For a moment, it felt even bigger than the sky. I inched into my own corner of the shadow and decided to try closing my eyes too.
I have to ask, is anyone watching over me? Over us? The priest at my church always likes to say “The Lord is a rock.” I think he is right about that. I don’t always know what I believe in, but I should tell you that Sofie and I are okay when we’re all the way down here next to our rock. It helps us both sleep.
Thanks for listening,
Paul
Tuesday, October 7, 1997
Hi,
I saw Sofie’s dad at the store when I got my balloon today. Just so you know, he looks nothing like my dad. He’s much shorter, has darker skin, and a smile. The new lady working there was giving him funny looks while he was trying to pick out the right air freshener for his logging truck. I have a hard time deciding on things too, but that lady kept asking him “Can I help you with anything, sir?” over and over again like she wanted him to hurry up and leave. Either way, he took his time and I think that’s good.
I haven’t actually seen Sofie’s dad since the PTO cake walk last year, but I worked up the courage to walk over and say “Hi, Mr. Gavia.” He said back in a deep voice, “Hi, you must be Ellie. I’ve heard so much about you from Sofie.” He even told me that I can call him Richard from now on and maybe the three of us could all go trick-or-treating together. He is a nice man from Detroit and has a missing finger from hard work, just like my grandpa. I liked him right away. I then thought about asking Richard to buy me a Cow Tail candy, but instead I just kept my mouth shut so he wouldn’t take back his Halloween invitation. I really hope it works out because Courtney and them sure as heck won’t invite me for trick-or-treating this year. I don’t really think things will get better over the next few weeks.
To be very honest with you, I have been feeling kind of lost lately. There were a lot of girls in the bathroom at school this morning. I just felt really out of place. Not just in a not having a lot of friends way, but in a way I can’t really describe. I just tried telling myself, “You’re a special girl, not like the rest,” just like my dad said. But I don’t know. I used to feel so sure and happy calling myself a boy. Ever since Dad started walking into my room and loving like he does, I am just feeling more afraid of boys. The other day, I even saw him punch his bedroom wall when there was nobody else to fight. He would never do that to another person. Am I supposed to be scared of myself? I don’t know.
I feel so turned around. I even told myself in the bathroom stall, “You’re not a boy. You can’t be one.” When I had that thought, I just stared at the wall.
I imagined someone taking a giant pink eraser to my whole entire body. They started with the middle to separate my parts, my heart, my gut. The rest was scrubbed away one by one, my hands, my legs, my head. Then there was nothing left with the girls’ room toilet un-flushed. Have you ever felt that way before? I don’t know.
Mr. B told us this morning at school, “Every time we lie to ourselves, it’s like taking the wrong turn on a map.” We get lost if we do it too much for too long. I just don’t know, do I even have a map if I feel gone completely? But I had to try anyways because school is like that. To help us figure out our maps, we had a special class assignment where each of us had to make two lists onto giant pieces of paper. One list was supposed to be about ten things we remember, and the other about ten things we love. I’m still not sure if this assignment was really good timing or really bad timing, but I wrote something like this:
Ten things I remember:
I remember the Michigan state tree is the white pine.
I remember how to push myself on the swing using my own leg muscles.
I remember the sound of my old dog when he’s mad about something.
I remember to turn off the porch light.
I remember to read the jokes on Popsicle sticks before throwing them away.
I remember my old address.
I remember watching our favorite show, Boy Meets World, at my friend Courtney’s house.
I remember to write Christmas cards for my aunts and uncles in Wisconsin even though we hardly know each other.
I remember to put on a smile when someone with a camera says “cheese.”
I remember the Stanley Cup is actually in the summer and not the winter.
Ten things I love:
I love my bedroom window.
I love my friend Sofie.
I love ice cream that turns my mouth different colors, especially Superman ice cream and anything made by Jilbert’s.
I couldn’t finish the “Ten things I love” list. I would have said I love sleeping in my bed, but I’m not sure about that anymore. I would have said I loved my pencil with the dog-shaped eraser, but Dylan had to step on it. I know we have a school store with that cool pencil machine and all, but nothing will be as good as what I had. I don’t know. I don’t know why I’m saying sorry, but I’m sorry. Dylan Beaman sped through the whole thing figuring out what he remembered and loved in less than five minutes. He was one of the first people to put it in Mr. B’s wire basket.