Halloween

Saturday was the warmest October day I have ever remembered. The leaves were falling like rain. The huge maple in Henry's yard lost about a thousand yellow leaves, each bright as a yellow crayon, and filled the yard along with a thousand red leaves, a thousand purple leaves, and on. Though last week I raked the yard until sweat rolled into my eyes and I got a big scab on my left thumb knuckle, the yard is full again. Perfect for Halloween.

Saturday evening Joe and Eli wanted to sleep on the front porch, folding out the couch into a bed. I said I had to check the weather report to make sure they wouldn't get too cold, and it looked ok, so we did it: piles of blankets, all the stuffed animals (Squiggley, the octopus; Mona Kako, the Koala; Rabby, the rabbit; Alley, the alligator). And me. I got between them and we all three read: Joe read his fat adventure fantasy novel; I read *Time* magazine (stupid magazine in that surburban-hip minivan voice) and Eli read a chapter book for the first time! He really likes them and at one point found a really funny part that he laughed aloud at, and that he read back to us. I remember so well the day I walked into the boys' room and saw Joe lying on his stomach, feet in the air, reading all by himself; today was just that day for me and Eli. I suddenly realized that he is going to read all his life and be defined--from his dreams to the way he looks for things to the buildings he lives in and visits--by reading. Maybe it's too dramatic, but his is how he will know the dead.

Pretty fitting for Halloween, huh? Reading is like meeting with ghosts....

Eli used to say he hated reading. He used to say he hated music, but last night, before the reading in bed, we did dancing in my room. They played selections from their favorite pop CD and they danced, Eli making moves much like he saw kids doing at the Westcott Street Fair, break dancing and stuff like that. He moves with a grace and power that is much more certain than he used to. In fact, I remember well when he used to actually *fall off* anything he was on. It happened so suddenly and abruptly it was as if he had been swept to the ground. Sometimes his milk or plate would go with him. Sometimes the chair. He was always unscathed, though. He was swept up by a river we couldn't see.

Last night we moved our clocks back, give the day an hour's head start on us. So in the morning, it's lighter; in the evening, it's darker. Tonigh will be dark as we go from house to house, and we are definately going to Paul Aviles' house, my oldest friend. Joe is going as a movie theater carpet, complete with ground-in gum, soda cups and popcorn. Eli is a lizard. I think this says volumes about who they are....

And to start the day, another surprise from Eli. He asked if I were hungry, and I said yes, so he asked if he could light a match to light the stove on Henry's ancient fancy gas stove. I said....I said....well, I said....ok. Ok. BUT BE CAREFUL. It was time for him to do these things. And I wrote a letter of recommendation for a faculty member here who is changing jobs. While I searched for words to describe the faculty member, Eli cooked and cooked. He made me wait and brougth me down with my eyes closed and this is what I saw: first, the table was completely set with forks and plates and cups. In front of my plate was a hot cup of coffee that he made entirely himself for me; in front of his plate was a glass of orange juice. On our plates were two fried eggs and a piece of toast with butter. He even put pepper on our eggs! It was wonderful. How many meals have I cooked for them? None I will remember. But this one, I will remember for a very long time. It turns out he is a very good cook.

Then we went outside to await their mother's minivan taxi to church. Before she came they played catch the leaves, chasing after the wavering leaves as the fell. Caught some, too! And then they asked to do another big-kid thing, going around the entire block by themselves. They are very cautious about the cars moving in and out of the driveways. But I waited on the sidewalk near my house here and listened for screeching tires, slavering dogs, comets falling out of the sky, breaking limbs (of trees and/or boys), and the like. After a minute or two, Joe comes loping around the corner; another half minute and Eli appears from the other direction. And the leaves and the leaves and the leaves and evertything is changing, fallling, growing, moving.

They are good boys, doing well.