Your American Boy
It’s been five months since we started on this nightmare. It honestly doesn’t feel that long. The constant string of emergencies and sleepless nights make it just seem like one long, hellish, week.
Think one of the worst parts of it all is that the woman I knew has left. In her place is someone that I love no differently, but isn’t the woman I once knew.
This woman is always tired, scared, and confused. Perhaps worst of all, she’s silent. She can speak, she just doesn’t, choosing instead to stare out into the world but not take part in it.
It’s lonely when we’re together.
For those of you that have read this blog for a while, this is a far cry from the clever and confident woman I once knew.
Actually, what I just wrote – that I love her no differently – isn’t quite true. In some ways I love this version of her even more.
Because I feel I need to take care of her, something I never felt before when it came to the woman she once was.
Said many times that we value things that are rare. Once in a very rare while, the old Alison will come back and visit us, if only for a fleeting moment. That too makes me love her all that much more.
A song came on one day when I was giving her lunch. It was American Boy by Estelle, a song I referenced years ago before I met her.
Despite the fact that I have no singing voice, at all, to speak of, I sang a bit of it as I stood up to clear off the table.
Take me on a trip, I’d like to go some day
Take me to New York, I’d love to see LA
I really want to come kick it with you
And then I heard a familiar voice I’d not heard in a while sing:
You’ll be my American boy…
Me: (turning around quickly) Alison? Alison? Do remember this song?!
Her: (nods, turns away)
Me: (quietly) We’ve missed you so much.
Me: Ah. (trailing) Yes. I’ll be your American boy…