I once had a child who sang to me from the middle landing of our back porch steps. It was a numinous, luminous moment that I will never forget.
I once had a baby who was so pissed off that he couldn’t crawl yet.
I once had a child who made up a language of combinations of “ha ha, ho ho, hee hee” and he and his best friend refused to translate.
I once had a child who loved horses.
I once had a child who preferred his father, but it was okay.
I once had a toddler who could tell me his dreams at the age of two.
I once had a child who loved endless stories about Cowboy Curtis and Miss Yvonne.
I once had a teenager who despised me.
I once had a child who said, “Puppy, do you know what it’s like to be human? It’s kind of a job, being alive.”
I once had a child who played harp and composed a song I wish I could hear in my last moments on earth.
I once had a teenager who transitioned, and was accepted and loved by all of us, no matter what.
I once had a child who made me sing “Felice Navidad” for at least two hours, in the style of Charo on Peewee’s Playhouse, to keep him comfortable and tantrum-free during a long car trip.
I once had a baby who barely slept. For years.
I once had a teenager who wrote novels, plays, poems, and music reviews. And who played the roles of Cyrano de Bergerac in his (now ridiculed) Waldorf School and Julius Caesar in a teen Shakespeare productions.
I once had a young adult who showed me silly videos on YouTube.
I once had a child who drew, a lot.
I once had a child/teenager/young adult whose thoughts I respected.
I once had a child who bested his teacher in almost any intellectual exchange.
I once had a young adult who loved the same punk music I’d loved in my twenties.
I once had a baby who rode in a snug baby pouch when I walked to 24th Street in San Francisco. He didn’t dangle like a small insect, facing forwards, like so many other children in other pouches.
I once had a toddler who couldn’t tolerate noisy bunches of kids at his preschool.
I once had a teenager who made fun of me for being short, once he grew taller than me.
I once had a young adult who shared some of his occult interests with me.
I once had a teenager who…
I once had a baby who…
I once had a child who…
I once had a toddler who…
I once had a young adult who…
I once had that someone who once seemed to love me.