TITLE: Her Sweet Baboo By Kathy Ludwig 11/06/08 |
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After a while, conversation lagged and they sat together, content with the silence. Both wandered into their own thoughts, interrupted only by the creaking of rocking chairs against floorboards on the old porch.
He thought about how much his world was going to change. Living on a campus half a state away nine months out of the year, that place would become more his home than the familiar house on Oak Street where he had lived since he was three years old. He would be on his own for the first time in his life. Master of his own domain, his schedule, habits, and decisions would be his own to make. Study or party, make friends or make grades, could he do both? He didn’t know. What he did know was that he couldn’t fail, do-overs weren’t acceptable and he had to live with whatever consequences his actions provoked.
Suddenly, he just wanted to be a kid again. He wanted to go backwards to days when the big pressures were learning how to swing a bat, walk to grandma’s through the corn field, or pay for his own candy at the corner store, counting out his own change. The path backwards was comfortable, forward was daunting. He longed for those older, simpler days.
“Grandma?” he questioned. “You used to call me that funny name – what was it?”
Grandma smiled, “You mean ‘My Sweet Baboo?’”
A little embarrassed, he said “Yeah, that’s the one.”
“We teased and teased about that name when you were little. But you grew out of it long before I was ready for you to,” she sighed.
He was her only grandson, the last baby in a long line of girls and the only one to pick up a permanent nickname. The girls were a little jealous of him for that, he knew. Still, the older he got, the harder it was for him to bear the silly name.
“Once when you were about five years old, I thought you might be getting tired of the name so I tried to give you an out, you know. I waited for you to tell me you were not my sweet baboo, then I said, ‘Okay, I’ll just find me another sweet baboo.’” She chuckled, “Do you remember? You paused for a minute, crossed your arms and said, ‘Then I’ll never speak to you again!’” She looked at him admiring the little boy who had become such a fine young man.
He remembered. It felt kind of like dragging an old blanket around, a baby thing he couldn’t quite leave behind. With a pang of regret, he remembered how he had hurt her feelings the day he made her stop calling him by the name.
His smile wavered as his guilt heightened, “I’m sorry, Grandma.”
“About what?” she was confused.
“About yelling at you to stop calling me that,” he said.
“Why, after all these years? It was a baby’s name, not a young man’s.”
He shrugged, embarrassed even now about his bad behavior that day.
It happened when he was twelve years old. She committed an unpardonable sin. She was picking him up from soccer practice one evening and spotted him down the field. He waved and smiled. As she drew up to him, she said, “Ah! You are still my sweet baboo!”
She didn’t see the three boys from school right behind her. He knew she wouldn’t have said it if she had. Still, he watched their eyes light up and knew he’d pay for the remark. So, he did the only thing he could think of to head off disaster.
“Don’t you ever call me that again!” he yelled then spun on his heel, but not before he saw the shocked and hurt look on her face. He hated that he’d shouted at her but knew it was the only way he’d be able to go to school the next day.
The ride home was hard. Although she didn’t cry outright, her eyes were red and from time to time a tear threatened to trickle before she wiped it away. As he justified his actions to himself, he became angrier with her for the whole stupid mess.
When they pulled into the driveway, she had to clear her throat. “Honey. . .” she started but had no chance to finish.
“Just don’t ever call me that again, okay?” he slammed the car door as he left. His stomach dropped to his knees but he couldn’t let go of the anger.
He never heard the nickname again.
“I’m just so sorry for hurting your feelings, Grandma,” his voice was raspy.
“I know you are. I knew you were even on the ride home,” her eyes pooled with the love she felt for him. “I understood what happened. You were embarrassed in front of your friends. I would have given the world to take my words back. Words! Once I imagined that sound waves went on and on forever and, if you traveled far enough into space, you could hear every word you ever spoke.”
“I don’t know about that, but they sure can ricochet around inside a person for a long time!” he shook his head. “Grandma, I’m really sorry I messed up. Sometimes I miss the old nickname.”
She smiled at him, revealing the secret she had kept for so many years, “Don’t you worry, dear heart, you have always been my Sweet Baboo.”
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