Who are you looking for when you wander? What do you think you will discover?
You gave me a scare yesterday. I was grilling the sandwiches, and when I turned, you were gone. You weren’t in the house or the yard. I looked up and down the street. Just as I was about to panic, Bella brought you back.
“Missing someone?” she asked with a laugh.
I’d never been so happy to see anyone in my life.
But you were mad when we came back inside.
You kept muttering under your breath, “mastikokopa,” and I didn’t know what you meant.
Finally, you took your sandwich into the bedroom to eat alone.
Miko came to visit.
“Where’s the little bug?” she asked. I pointed.
She went in and sat beside you, and I could hear her telling you stories about the latest otome she’d played.
I came in to tell her I didn’t think “Hatoful Boyfriend” was appropriate for you.
But you were giggling.
“Miko bizaabgotojo!” you said.
“What’s he saying?” Miko asked.
I didn’t know.
By the time you’re able to read this, we’ll be able to speak to each other. At least I hope so. You’ll learn my language, right? You can say “Miko” already.
I didn’t know how hard it would be to raise a kid with a language barrier. I wonder how much is different between us besides language.
Most of the time, I see you as any other little kid.
And the other times, I notice little things like how your ears wiggle when you breathe. How you sometimes stop breathing altogether, for five ten minutes at a time, and then you take a big gulp and you smile, as if the air is delicious. The material the agency gave us says “prolonged breathing pauses are normal in this species, especially the very young.” I’ve read about the differences with your digestive tract and your circulation and your double heart, too. But you probably don’t want to hear about your differences, do you?
Well, if it’s something you want to know more about, just ask. I’ll tell you anything.
What I notice most are the ways we’re the same: the two eyes, two ears, one nose, one mouth, two hands, ten fingers… all that litany of sameness.
Already, your smile feels like family to me.
I just wish that I felt like family to you, and that our home felt like home.
You woke up from your nap feeling ornery.
“Mastikokopa!” you moaned, and you headed towards the door.
“Where are you going, Septemus?” I asked. “Stay here.”
I stood in front of the exit.
You shot your angry glare.
“Stay here, Sept,” I said again. “Do you know who’s coming over? Miko’s coming.”
“Miko?” you asked.
“Yup. She’s on her way.”
“Miko bizaabgotojo!” you said, with a grin.
Well, at least you like my friends, even if you’re not always sure how you feel about me.
We’ll get there, right 77?
From the guy taking care of you,