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The
rain spattered lightly on the windshield and
just as lightly the wiper blades pushed the drops aside as I drove
through the now gray woods. Also light was the breathing of the
sleeping boy whose head, covered with thick black hair, lay in my
lap. The rest of his body crumpled up between me and the
door. Looking down at him, I dropped my hand from the wheel and
pushed the hair back from his forehead. It flopped back and I
repeated the action several times. Best keep my eyes and mind on
the road, Beau. The cargo you carry is irreplaceable and precious
beyond words. Beautiful black haired Kyle in the front with me
and the two brothers, Jason and Jamie, also asleep in the back, were
entrusted to me last Friday after school and now on Sunday, our weekend
over, I will deliver them back to their homes safe and sound.
Their homes were an hour or so ahead of us down in the valley.
Our road had led up last Friday. Up to the gentle mountains that
surrounded our small town. The weather had been our friend all
the way to the cabin, throughout our wandering and fooling around in
the hidden meadows on Saturday, only to turn its shoulder on us with a
thunderstorm on Saturday night. I have to laugh, thinking back on
that night. Kyle and I were already sawing logs when the first
boom brought two wide eyed boys, (with equally wide grins), flying into
our bed. I didn't mind the extra passengers as much as
Kyle. He was pooped and wanted to sleep. As he often said,
in the coy manner I liked so well, "Beau, I need my beauty rest.”
And just as often I straight-eyed him and said, "Kyle, you don't need
any beauty rest. You are just as beautiful as you need to be."
As the storm continued we'd slowly wiggled our four bodies into
comfortable positions and one by one had come to drift off into the
dream world of sleep.
Morning had come early - too early as the result of too many bodies and
too little bed. First one moves, then another. Then two,
then three, and all at once, laughter and squeals and hands and feet
and legs and arms and knees and elbows everywhere. Then just as
quick Jason and Kyle are on the back porch watering the grass that was
already wet.
Rain continues as we approach our home. Our first stop drops
Jamie and Jason, but not before a kiss and a hug, and a brief report to
mom that we are on our way. I look forward to the same arms and
boy-scented breath tomorrow after school. Kyle sits next to me,
chatting away as he usually does, with a hand resting on and off my
leg. It is so easy to be casual with him, and him with me.
At 13, Kyle and I have known each other for three years. We have
had a fine and close relationship. I feel for him very
deeply. And he knows it.
As we pull into his driveway his chatting turns towards us.
"Thanks, Beau. I really had a great time. I hope we can go
back next weekend. I am sure glad though that that thunderstorm
didn't start any sooner.” The last sentence he accompanies with
his coy grin, cocked head and million dollar wink. What a boy.
As we unload and report to his parents the sun returns. A third
boy hug and kiss, and a run for his bike, leaves me alone with his
dad. Being alone with a boy's father used to be unsettling, and
at times old feelings still creep back every once and a while.
They were all dispelled by the hand on my shoulder and the voice
saying, as I watched Kyle ride off down the street, "Thanks for loving
my son. Beau. I wish I had the gift. I sure hope Kyle
has it when he is a man.” I'll do my best. What a
boy. How sweet it is.
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