Dinosaur Days
The hillside was dotted with black cows this morning, and the sky had a pale watercolor look, and I am in the space between two worlds. We were walking around in England just days ago, and playing with our grandson Felix, and everything is still so recent and vivid, but now we are here, on dream island, discombobulated. We have family and friends in Oxford that are very dear to us, and places and routines that have grown familiar, and my heart will be forever in two places. But I cheered myself up a bit today by buying dinosaurs for Felix.
Felix: he waves to airplanes in the sky, and the drivers of trucks and trimmers of trees. His current favorite book is called Diggers, but he is also fond of Wheels on the Bus, and as soon as you open it up, he begins to steer and sway, followed by motions for window wipers, mamas saying hush, and the whole array of bus trip stanzas. He pulls If You’re Happy and You Know It from the shelf and launches a family sing-along, conspicuously delighted, and pleased with his own power to prompt a roomful of grown-ups to sing, clap, and stamp their feet. He’s very sensitive to music, and cannot hear even a snippet of it, from nursery songs to classical pieces, without moving to its rhythm.
Monte calls him the Roomba Brain, for the way he scopes out a room, buzzing around, noticing and remembering everything, but I find his most endearing antic to be his confident pointing gesture, which is his way of either informing us of some astonishing thing he has observed, or demanding that it be brought to him. He is self-assured, almost regal, with a Falstaffian gusto for life. On a windy afternoon in the park he inspired me to become an autumn leaf, twirling in the breeze and tumbling to the ground, a spectacle he seemed to find hilarious, and I’ve been twirling ever since. I see now that I’ve been neglecting such activities, missing all the euphoric and adrenaline benefits of regression.
And why have I not been waving to airplanes and chatting with workers on the road and laughing at the surprise of an umbrella bursting open, or feeding raisins to dinosaurs? (Dinosaurs love raisins. That’s why their mouths are agape.)
Which brings me back to this day of readjustment and self-care, and my ongoing strategies for coping. Yes, I bought a batch of dinosaurs online today, ostensibly for Felix, including T-rex, stegosaurus, and brachiosaurus.
“Durable enough to be used indoors or out,” said the description. “Different species of dinosaurs in various poses will provide you with a realistic experience.”
I feel a little better already.