A pounding on my front door this morning.

Finally, I staggered to open it. Somewhat dressed. 8:49AM and I got to bed at maybe 2:30AM. There was a neighbor lady, from up the block. The one from that historical house that hosts piano brunch benefits for local politicians.

She was looking harried. "Does Bear live here?" she asked.

I blinked.

"Bear. With the red hair. He lives here?"

I blinked again into the sun. After a long moment, the starter on my brain finally caught and my mouth begin moving. Slowly. "Yes."

"Well," she snapped, impatient. "I have my Grandson with me. All Day. Can Bear come to play at my house?."

"Uh, he goes to Montessori in the mornings. I pick him up at 11:30." I don't know why I am having this conversation. Her Caddy is idling over the oily spot in my driveway. In the front seat is a boy, I can barely make out his brown hair.

I vaguely remember my son referring to someone named Caillou. Of course, I thought it a fanciful story.

But no, "His name is Kyle," she tells me. Her gray hair is sensibly cut, her lipstick is perfect, her skin unmade-up. For a minute, I see my grandmother standing there. No-nonsense Yankee woman, cutting to the chase.

For 4 years, we've lived in Pleasantville. Her house is on the way up to the park, about a block away. For 4 years, she has waved back as we walked past. First with the baby carriage, then the stroller, then wagon, then bike. My son growing up before her eyes, as we've walked past. And now, he is a person. A boy to be sought. He is no longer my son. I am now Bear's mother.

"I'm Elizabeth," I say. Trying to find my manners.

"I know," she retorts. She looks frustrated. Her grandson is 10 years old, recently moved in with his dad to her house. I learn this later. My Bear is only 4, but he plays well with children of all ages.

"I will send him by, around 1," I tell her. "With his babysitter," I add.

An expression of barely controlled asperity, she nods. She marches to the white Caddy and opens the door to get in. I can hear her telling Kyle that Bear will be by at 1, and he smiles at me.

I smile back.

At 4:30PM, Bear comes racing home with Elia after his playdate. Grinning, laughing. A big kid has played with him for ages. Transformers. Lego's. Elia tells me how genteel and welcoming Kyle's grandmother was to them, how relieved to have a playmate for her grandson.

"I told him," Bear says between long slurps of juice. "I said, you can come to my house anytime. Just ring my doorbell and if I'm home then I will come out and play. That's ok, right?' he asks.

I kiss his sweaty forehead and smile. I remember years of doorbells from my childhood, of boys shouting for my brother. Of pick-up games and flashlight tag.

I look at my son, and realize that the future has already started.

Bear lives here.

Posted by: Elizabeth at 04:45 PM | Comments (10) | Add Comment
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