Erma Bombeck Writing Competition - Winners
2007
Erma Bombeck Writing Competition
Honorable Mention
Human Interest - Global
Angie Klink
Lafayette, Indiana
"Kindergarten Karma"
| One frosty morning, I drove my five-year-old to school, and kid-schlepping turned kindergarten karma. From his booster seat, Ross peered out the window and said, "I see the moon." I looked across the frigid, February landscape, up into the grey sky, but I couldn't find the morning moon. I was about to learn that perhaps it wasn't there for me to see. "I imagine something. Then, it comes out of my eyes, and I see it," Ross said. "It comes out of your eyes?" I asked, as I steered the car toward school. Maybe the moon Ross "saw" was all in his head, I thought. "Yeah. I think of it, and then it comes out, and I see it," Ross repeated. "You mean you imagine it?" I said. "And then it comes out," Ross persisted. "Can everybody do that?" "Well, everyone can imagine things and see things in their head," I said, ever the sensible adult. Ross's mystical self would not be squelched. "But do they see them outside, not in their head?" He sounded like the boy in the movie, "The Sixth Sense," who said, "I see dead people." My skin tingled. Maybe Ross really could see images. Ross sensed the change in my attitude and got down to business. "Okay, Mom. This is a test. Can you see a bunch of balls out there in the snow?" I gave an obligatory glance toward the frozen lawns we whizzed by. "I see a bunch of balls in my imagination," I answered, knowing immediately that I failed his test by referring to my mind's eye. "But I can really see them." Ross was so sincere, it hurt me. "The balls are red." "O.kay," I muttered. Silence. Neither of us spoke as Ross's declaration of "really" seeing conjured images floated around us. Finally, Ross said softly, "What would you call that?" "Some people might call it psychic." Ross brightened. "That sounds like a superhero!" "Yes, it does." "Would it be okay if I called it 'my powers'?" I smiled. "Yes. Powers is an excellent word for the ability to see what others cannot." We arrived at school. As Ross grabbed for his backpack, he said, "I think I'm like an angel. I have a super power. I imagine things, and they come out of my eyes." "You are an angel," I said. And that's when something powerful came out of my eyes-tears. I kissed my son goodbye. He hopped out of the car. His Spider-ManŽ-coat bopped up and down, as he disappeared into school. I drove away, cloaked in little-boy vapors, the glorious aftermath of kid-schlepping. |