Pages

Tuesday, June 25, 2013

My Stepson Called Me a Witch

Of course, he meant that in the nicest way possible. He was telling a friend's son that I could fly on my broom and that he had flown with me. The son didn't believe it, so my stepson called me so I could confirm the story.

I told the son it was true but it had been a long time since I'd flown. My stepson was around four years old at the time and we lived in a ground floor apartment. I don't remember why I told my young stepson that I could fly on my broom but he, too, was doubtful. So, I told him I would take him for a ride.

I have to tell you, I would do anything for my stepson (and, now, my grandson) no matter how foolish. In fact, just this last Father's Day, my grandson wanted to walk around the neighborhood to pick flowers for his dad. But, first, he had to dress me. He put a blue knit hat and a red apron on me and off we went, down the street, looking for flowers to pick. Each time he picked one, he would hand it to me to put in the apron's pocket. By the time we were done, I was not only wearing a blue cap and a red apron, but I had a bunch of flowers sticking out of the pocket that was in the middle of my belly.

I told my stepson, those many years ago, to straddle the broom handle behind me and to hold onto me. We had to get some speed up to make it fly so we took off running down the sidewalk in front of our apartment building with the broom between our legs, trying to get enough speed for liftoff.

At this point, I might mention that directly across the street was a mall except that it didn't really matter that we looked ridiculous. When we reached the end of the sidewalk, we tried again running in the other direction, every once in a while giving a little hop in an attempt to launch ourselves into space.

I told all of this to my stepson's friend's son. I corroborated everything my stepson had told the boy. My stepson was happy to remember our flight together.

And, the son? I have no idea what he thought as he drifted away from the other end of the phone line. But next time I see him, I'll be sure to bring my broom.

No comments:

Post a Comment