kiwords

Ok, first of all let me say that I know that this particular subject gets old. I’m sure those of you who check in on my blog regularly (you do, don’t you?) sigh and click away when you see it’s yet another “divorce is so hard but life goes on” entry.
Sorry.
The thing is, divorce is….so hard.
But life goes on.
Tonight the boys carved pumpkins. We had fun. The front porch now sports two fabulously goofy jack-o-lanterns, and three mini pumpkins that were scribbled on by Raphael. The pumpkin grossness has been properly discarded of, the table wiped and the knives stowed safely away. I’ve got three boys tucked in bed, dreaming of their costumes and candy. The evening was happy and cozy and good.
This is something of a victory for us, because the last thing their father did with them before he left was to carve pumpkins. Two years ago tonight. Tre still has pumpkin seeds in his sock drawer from that night, because it was the last thing he did with his dad. My ex moved out on Halloween.
I’ve never been a big fan of Halloween. I don’t like spooky stuff, and besides, here in Denver it always seems to snow. I’d much rather be inside when it’s snowing. Ick. But after Halloween of two years ago, I outright hate it. I see the costumes in stores and remember Tre and Max that year. They were both knights. Knights who stopped between houses while trick-or-treating to sit down on the curb and stare and try to comprehend what had happened to their family.
You want a story of a haunted Halloween? Look at my boys’ faces when we spread out newspaper and bring out the pumpkins for carving. Max, who always deals with things obliquely, pulled out his toy cell phone and dialed furiously. “Hello, Daddy? I need you to bring me a coat. I’m cold. Ok. Bye.”
Max speaks in metaphors sometimes. Last year after trick-or-treating I asked him if he remembered what happened the year before on that day. His dark eyes gazed past my shoulder and he said, “That was the day the world split open and the snow came out and we were all cold.”
Indeed.
Tre, my willful firstborn, takes things much more directly. As we gathered at the table around the pumpkins, he looked at me. Big, dark eyes. “What does this make you think about?” I asked. “Daddy,” he replied. Chin wobble. “I remember doing this with Daddy.” He patted his pumpkin, regaining control of that wobbly chin. “I miss him.”
Indeed.
But here’s the cool part. We all took a deep breath and turned our attention to the pumpkins. We scooped out slime and created art in the medium of pumpkin. We laughed and Mom came home and helped. We lit the candles and set the jack-o-lanterns on the icy porch and admired them as long as we could stand to, in the cold in our stocking feet.
Those boys were happy when they went to bed tonight. They were a little tender around the heart, but ok.
And life goes on.