Urgent!
Hi, moms!
This is going to be different from any post so far. Not more important, since all the things that happen with our kids, their frowns and smiles, their first steps and first words, are the most important things in the world.
Let's just say this post is . . . more urgent. Way more urgent.
My best friend has disappeared. She's been gone for two days. Her name is Emily Nelson. As you know, I don't ever name friends on my blog. But now, for reasons you'll soon understand, I'm (temporarily) suspending my strict anonymity policy.
My son, Miles, and Emily's son, Nicky, are best friends. They're five. They were born in April, so they both started school a few months later and are a little older than the other kids in their class. I'd say more mature. Miles and Nicky are everything you'd want your child to be. Decent, honest, kind little people, qualities that—sorry, guys, if any guys are reading this—are not as common in boys.
The boys found each other in public school. Emily and I met picking them up after school. It's rare that kids become friends with their moms' friends' kids, or that moms become friends with their kids' friends' moms. But this time it clicked. Emily and I were lucky. For one thing, we're not the youngest moms. We had kids in our midthirties, when our mom clocks were ticking away!
Sometimes Miles and Nicky make up plays and act in them. I let the boys film them on my phone, though I'm usually careful about how much time I let the kids spend on the electronic devices that make modern parenting such a challenge. One amazing skit they did was a detective story, "The Adventures of Dick Unique." Nicky was the detective; Miles, the criminal.
Nicky said, "I'm Dick Unique, the world's smartest detective."
Miles said, "I'm Miles Mandible, the world's most evil criminal." Miles played it like a villain in a Victorian melodrama, with lots of deep ho ho hos. They chased each other around our yard, pretending to shoot each other (no guns!) with their fingers. It was awesome.
I only wished that Miles's dad—my late husband, Davis—could have been here to see it!
Sometimes I wonder where Miles gets his theatrical streak. From his dad, I guess. Once I watched Davis give a presentation to potential clients, and I was surprised by how animated and dramatic he was. He could have been one of those goofy-charming, attractive young actors with floppy, shiny hair. With me he was different. More himself, I guess. Quiet, kind, humorous, thoughtful—though he did have some very strong opinions, mostly about furniture. But that seemed natural—after all, he was a successful designer-architect.
Davis was a perfect angel. Except for once. Or twice.
Nicky said his mom helped them come up with the idea for Dick Unique. Emily loves detective stories and thrillers. She reads them on the Metro-North commuter train to Manhattan when she doesn't have to prepare for a meeting or a presentation.
Before Miles was born, I read books. Every so often now I'll pick up something by Virginia Woolf and read a few pages to remind myself of who I used to be—of who, I hope, I still am. Somewhere under the playdates and school lunches and early bedtimes is the young woman who lived in New York City and worked at a magazine. A person who had friends, who went out for brunch on weekends. None of those friends had kids; none moved to the suburbs. We've lost touch.
Emily's favorite writer is Patricia Highsmith. I can see why Emily likes her books; they're page-turners. But they're too upsetting. The main character is a usually a murderer or stalker or an innocent person trying not to be killed. The one I read was about two guys who meet on a train. They each agree to murder someone as a favor for the other.
