little nonsense now and then

It started with talk of a red beaded prom dress.

“I feel like Barbie,” my niece giggled.

I can see her as if she were standing in front of me, long brown hair, up on her tiptoes, twirling around the room.

“Oooo – well you have to take lots of pictures, okay?”

“I wish you could come home that weekend though and see it. But whatever… I know it’s far and you gotta work and stuff.”

And stuff was right. I miss it, I thought. I’m missing it.

“I wish I could too!” I said. “I’ll see you soon though… promise.”

There is a brief pause and as I start to ask her about school, she breaks in:

“Mandy, is there a city underneath Washington?”

“What?” I replied, thinking I’d misheard her.

“Well my teacher said that there’s an extra city.”

“An extra city?”

“Yeah, a city that’s like a back-up for America.”

“Interesting...”

“My teacher said that there’s a city underground with a million people in it.”

“Hmm… what else did your teacher say?” I can feel a smirk sliding across my face.

“He said there’s a back-up president and vice president, too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah and he said that there are hospitals down there and that all the babies that are born don’t ever get to come up to where we are. And I just thought that was messed up – I mean, they never get to see the world or anything.”

“Did you ask him if he had proof?”

“No, but he said it was on the Internet.”

"I can imagine.”

“I mean that’s just stupid, right? I told him that I wanted to go there and see it and he told me that if I went I could never come back. So I don’t really believe him. Not really.”

“Well, if you come visit I’ll show you the entrance. It’s right beside the White House. Sometimes you can see people going in it. But nobody ever comes out. And I heard that you have to take a glass elevator down to it, like the one in Willy Wonka! A Wonkavator! But you ride for an hour before you get there.”

“Nuhhh-uhhh!”

“Yeah and you know what else?”

“What?”

“There’s a swimming pool on top of your school… but no one’s ever told you about it. It’s a secret.”

She bursts into more giggles. “Shutup... That is not funny! I really believed him for a few minutes!”

“I’m sure you did.”

I’ve had gullible stamped on my forehead for years. Perhaps she gets it from me.

“I hope you have a great time at the prom.” I say, reminding her again to take pictures.

“Thanksloveyoubye!”

It all comes across as one word and then I hear rustling and her call for my sister to pick up the phone.

I don’t know exactly what it’s like to have children, but I’ve got an idea. A partial one. Of what it’s like to worry over them, fear for their safety, hope the best for them, and want to protect them. Even at four hundred miles away. I know that.

I remember holding her as an infant, watching her, bright blue eyes and tiny little hands reaching up to grab my earrings. Helping her learn to read with one fish, two fish, red fish, blue fish. Sharing my big girl makeup with her at twelve, teaching her to do eyes first and lips last. And last fall when I watched her in midfield, kicking soccer balls across the grass during Varsity games. In another year, she’ll be going off to college.

In that moment of dead air, still holding the phone to my ear, sitting in the Starbucks parking lot, I thought how lucky I am, just because I get to help and share and watch someone... grow up.