Day Seventeen: Jesse, from 10 to 11

I can only get through about five pages before I fall
asleep, but I like to read with Jess at night. He’s the most like me in this
reading habit, pouring over the same books again and again, and reading at
night is how we share the hobby.

But one night he stopped me at his bedroom door, his plastic pirate sword barring the way.

“Mom, I need you to leave.”

“Don’t you want to read?”

“I’m imagining things. I’m talking them out loud, and I
don’t want you to hear me.”

“Got it.”

“Are you upset?”

“No, I love your imagination.”

“You can give me a kiss before you go.”

I give him a kiss on the cheek and close the door behind me. I did the same thing as a child, acting out the stuff I read, because sometimes the imagination was too big to fit in my mind. I had to speak it out loud.

2019 was the year I reversed the count for Jesse. Seven years until he’s 18, and how many of those will he continue to imagine, speak his imagination out loud, or choose not to so he can close his day reading side-by-side with me?

I’m going to leave that question be and take the days as they come.