With his copper mop and earnest, angelic face, the only difference between Chris and Christian is their eyes. Chris inherited my blue ones but that's where his maternal resemblance ends. He's the spitting image of his father and as mercurial, but then, he's only four. My mom is joining us for this long weekend getaway, a welcome helping hand with my busy little boy.
We've never really spoken about what happened between Christian and me, but I suspect that she knows I was too bold, flying too close, and got horribly burned by the fiery sun that is Mr. Grey.
With Chris between us, eagerly clasping both our hands, we stroll through the gates of the Miami Zoo. My boy is so excited, his love for all things animal leaving him almost frantic with anticipation.
With something akin to joy I watch him take in each exhibit, animated and chatty, almost as entertaining as the animals themselves. Stunned at the sheer size of the elephants, he points his tiny finger at them, gawking with round eyes. We stop to watch the zookeepers feed the ferocious alligators. When they snap their jaws he jumps and giggles, and further on he squeals with delight at the monkey's shenanigans.
Walking around, my eye keeps catching glimpses of beautifully fashioned posters strategically placed all around the zoo. They advertise some event related to greening the planet that is to be held here today at the zoo's amphitheater. In the back of my mind I register that by the obviously high-end design, it must be a fairly prestigious event.
When our tummies start to rumble, we decide on a picnic, the emerald hue of the grass and the big shady trees too inviting to pass by. Chris wolfs down his late lunch sandwich then, with his energy restored, runs around us, enthusiastically mimicking the silly animal noises. Looking at him I feel coddled in a cocoon of happiness for the first time in a long while. Yes, I think, he's definitely beginning to heal me.
