A couple of weeks ago, I wrote about how Smoke’s best friend in his kindergarten class moved away suddenly. The week after he left, I talked to Smoke about it indirectly, by asking him each evening who he played with at recess. He seemed to be coping by reconnecting with old friends, and making a few new ones, though none of his recess friends were in his classroom.
By the end of week two, I figured we were over the hump. I figured that, but I didn’t want to push too hard. And then Saturday evening, as Smoke was getting out of the bath and drying off, he was giggling over some remembered joke that Jeremy had made. Like most kindergarten jokes relayed secondhand, I couldn’t follow it. Smoke seemed surprised by his own memory of Jeremy, and a pained look crossed his face.
“Every time I think of Jeremy I almost cry,” he told me. He was almost crying.
“I can see that,” I told him. I wanted to fix it. “Do you want me to see if I can find his phone number? Or would you rather I focus on making play dates with new friends?” I asked. Getting Jeremy’s phone number felt like a long shot. For all I know they’ve moved to Tennessee. Besides that, I had called Jeremy’s mom once before to invite him to Smoke’s birthday party. She wasn’t especially friendly, and just as we were hanging up I heard a male voice in the background shout “Who was that?” I was hoping Smoke would opt for the latter.
“How about you focus on both?” Smoke asked. For a moment I thought he was brightening. I hung up his towel as he pulled on his skivvies. But as we walked towards his bedroom, the tears returned. “I feel like all that I have left of Jeremy is a memory.”
Seriously? I have no idea where he learned to talk like that. I scoured my brain trying to come up with Lifetime movies I might have inadvertently exposed him to.
That was last week, and every so often I think that I’ll try to get a hold of Jeremy’s parents. But I’m pretty sure that I’m only avoiding what Smoke already knows is true.
What a sweetheart he is (: Those brutally honest ages.. they know alright. But that doesn’t stop them from hoping that the almighty parent will have the answer to the secrets of the universe!
Oh, how I wish I had the answers…
Such a painfully sweet moment. What a sensitive and thoughtful boy. There’s something about the oldest… And from the distant vantage point of 1st grade, I want to say that it appears to get easier. Actually, as a (former) high school teacher I’ll say it gets easier and harder and easier again.
I keep hearing about the stages where things get harder again (11? 14?), but I’m just blocking my ears and tuning it out.
Smoke makes my heart melt every single time. It’s amazing how long kids’ heart memories are… I bet 20 years from now he’ll still remember Jeremy. I’ll be curious to find out if there is a part 3: the playdate reunion to this story.
That’s true. I still remember all my best friends from elementary school–even the ones that just lasted a week or two at summer camp.
[…] never forgot about Jeremy, the child with a tiny voice who was your best friend for two months in kindergarten, and who moved […]