Last night we flew kites with Tizzy’s spirit brother, A-the Great.
It seems the boys have truly been in each others’ lives since before they were born. I’ve been friends with his mom since we were fifteen, but I’d lost touch with her when I was about twenty. 33 weeks pregnant for Tizzy, I was schlepping through Whole Foods, when I heard from behind, “Look’s like we’ve been up to the same thing lately.”
I turned and our bellies nearly collided. We reconnected, had time for one lunch out, and then we had our babies, one day apart, in the same hospital. We often joke that they orchestrated that run-in while they were still floatin’ about in Never-Never-Land, to ensure their lifetime friendship.
At three weeks old, they officially met. They were fast friends, in a newborn kind of way. We’d lay them on their sides, propped up with blanket bolsters, and they’d wave their tiny arms about, and then they’d fall asleep.
His mother and I formed our own Mommy group of sorts. We’d converge in our living room’s weekly, in our yoga pants, and just stare at our babies all day long. Frequently they’d arrive at our house as Brad was leaving for work, and still be there when he came home at night.
We’ve seen each other through deaths and births, household moves and rainy day blues.
Four and a half years, and the boys are as tight as ever. With preschool and alternate schedules, we don’t see each other with such frequency. The boys have been missing each other and it hasn’t gone unnoticed. So last night we loaded everyone into the car for a long overdue night of flying of kite’s.
As our timing would have it, we both pulled into the parking lot at the same time. The boys were grinning ear to ear and could hardly be contained long enough to release them from their seats. A big hug and they were off.
While the grown ups untangled kite strings and got the beasts up into the sky, the boys rolled down the grassy hill sides, crashing into each other and screaming with delight. They would chase each other in circles around the path, commence at the drinking fountain, climb back up the hill to us, and start all over again. The kite’s were a nice backdrop, but they were the main attraction.
After everyone had their fill, we loaded them back in our cars with promises of grilled cheese and ice cream. As we made our way to the diner, they’d squeal with delight when we’d meet up at stop lights, where they’d laugh and blow kisses.
At the diner, the three boys piled into a booth, marveled at the toy filled table tops and, held each other in passionate embraces in between bites. To top off the evening, they shared an enormous Sundae, covered in whipped-cream and sprinkles. It was the quietest they’d been all evening as their three spoons clinked in unison, savoring every last bite.
Smiles were abundant, and spread to neighboring tables, as we all stopped to watch them partake in this childhood extravaganza.
Once they were done, Tizzy who knows how to recognize a happy ending, jumped out of his seat, threw open his arms for one last hug, and said Good-night.
* Title extracted from Robert B. Sherman's Let's Go Fly a Kite