I'm Okay

Last year in one of our after school conversations, JT was interested in the progression of school. He asked what happens after he finishes his school (it's pre K through 12th grade) and I explained that he'd go to college. And after college? I said that he'd probably go to graduate school. And then? So I explained that the end goal is to get a job.

We were walking to the car and he simply stopped in his tracks and then asked the obvious question, "When do I get to play?"

So I explained how a job that you love is like playing. And he listened and nodded his head, though it was clear that he regarded this as so much adult bullshit. The discovery that life and education lead to a job instead of playing seemed to revitalize JT's interest in getting in as much as play time as possible. It's a strike while the iron is hot policy.

And the boy is an amazing, imaginative player. Though he likes television and video games as much as the next kid, his real passion is reserved for playing all sorts of imaginary games. In the summer, when JT's time is unleashed for non-stop play, he will spend hours immersed in his imaginary games. I don't want to suggest a child unable to live in reality, because that's not the case. But more times than I can count, I find my child wearing some sort of costume and playing a game with a complete world made up by him, for him. He'll play the game for hours and wake up the next morning ready to go at it again. He's an only child but has never once asked for a sibling. He expects to make his own fun and he's perfectly able to do so.

This summer, the games have occasionally featured a loud noise. And when that happens, he'll call downstairs and we'll have the following conversation.

JT: Mama?

Mama: Honey, what was that (incredibly loud) noise?

JT: I'm playing. But I'm okay.

Mama: Well please be careful.

As the summer has unfolded, the full conversation has been less necessary. I'll hear the noise and within seconds it will be followed by the announcement: "I'm okay." It's JT's instant peace-of-mind program for dealing with his Mama.

In the next week, JT will be doing his playing at his other mom's house. My house will feel strangely quiet. At first, I'll relish the quiet. But soon I will miss the thundering boy feet, the laughter, the announcements that all is well. This time away isn't optional; it's what happens when a family is broken. To be honest, I've had a hard time making my peace with it. But if it has any silver lining, it's that I've come to appreciate just how fleeting my boy's childhood is.

I'll miss him while he's gone. Over and over I'll remind myself that what cannot be changed must be borne. In my mind, I'll hear JT's sweet, sweet voice telling me, "I'm okay."

I'm okay.