Not so much a letter, but a piece of warmth from my heart.
I observe, in fact I observe a lot.
While out, I will watch how the little boy races his glossy red Lightning McQueen car over the cereal boxes, wheels spinning down the fruit loop box then changing lanes on over to the Cheerio's, next stop red light onto the Raisin bran. Dirty, pudgy hands squeezed over the middle of the scratched up metal car that I just know in my heart he takes everywhere.
I love that the little girl at the playground pushes her "baby," on the swings. Sometimes much to high, and the baby collapses to the ground. Little mother that she is rushes over and instantly scoops her up and places kisses on her boo-boo's. Wraps her up in a blanket that magically appears out of nowhere and then starts cradling her in her arms. Kisses her on the head and ever so gently places her softly into her carriage.
I love these attachments children have with toys and as much as I love witnessing these events where ever I go, often it would make me sad. He was never attached to one special thing. Cars would collect and I would await for his hand to squeeze around the metal and make that sucker fly like he was Mario Gabriele Andretti, instead, the car it would sit, lifeless. Unloved.
Toys would collect, and never would I witness the magic that I had seen with the girls.
Sloan with her Blue, which was left in a Starbucks when she was wee, and we had to phone the store that night when she went to bed because her beloved Blue wasn't by her side. Blue was located and picked up that night. Soundly she slept.
Taiga and her wooden puppy Gary which is bruised and battered but magically the red cord still pulls the puppy with the wagging tail along.
I wanted this for him so badly, I wanted to witness the faded coloring on a car, the stuffie that had one ear because it got carted everywhere. I Needed to see a connection to a thing that he would hold dear like the girls did with their Blue and Gary.
December 2012 magic happened.
He ripped off the paper and there Woody was. Woody stared out of his box, with his red hawaiian floral shirt on, a bright blue lei and a straw looking cowboy hat. Serious. Who does he think he is dressed all hawaiian like and at Christmas. This boy is not going to be impressed about this type of business.
I put him up high on a shelf in Gage's room and there he sat in the box lifeless, unloved, unopened.
Sloan one morning went into Gage's room and took Woody out of the box, and then next gave him to Gage. Gage examined him, flipped him over, felt his hands, his boots, placed his hat on and off his head, and then he sees this string that you pull on Woody's back. Gage yanks that white cord and places wide-eyed Woody up to his ear, then smiles.
Woody next gets maneuvered down the stairs, yanking him down one stair at a time, gangly legs with cowboy boots bouncing down one step at a time. Once bottom is hit Woody gets dragged to the living room then picked up and kissed by unsteady little hands, then hugged.
I hear WOOD-DEE, WOOD-DEE.....next the string gets pulled again and again and again.
Woody is loved, bear hugged squeezed, and kissed by a little boy who found his forever friend.
I say "Aloha partner and welcome to the luau, It's Hawaii......Yee-haw!!"