We're driving on Beach Street past strawberry fields, sprinklers pumping in precise, balletic arcs. "We made it!" Isaac shouts from the back seat, excited by the proximity of our rented beach house, our friends, and, of course, the ocean. We've been out for the day, and I have a pound and a half of halibut, a bag of artichokes and a bottle of white table wine in my lap: fixings for dinner. We're sandy and tired and feeling just fine.
Isaac starts singing a little tune from the back seat: it's something he began on the way down and is now repeating, with variations, each day. "To-day we're going to their house," he sings, and then, "To-day we're going back to somebody else's house." He pauses briefly and segues into a childish a capella version of the Bee-Gees' "Stayin' Alive," which J. taught him and is probably regretting about now.
After a tough first two nights spent insisting hysterically that we go home, Isaac has finally settled in, and he wanders from room to room exploring, opening doors and drawers, stopping occasionally to perch on the couch with his friend. But he's restless, and we've come to realize that we can't leave him alone here, even for a second. His curiosity and his will are still stronger than his judgment, and so one of us follows him from room to room, removing objects from his hand, locking doors, admonishing and reminding and reinforcing. It's a lot to ask of a five-year-old, him especially, and it wears at our sense of ease.
So, suitably stuffed with pancakes, fruit, milk and whatever else we have on hand, we whisk him out each morning: to Capitola, to Santa Cruz, to Carmel. He follows us with (mostly) good humor, though we both notice that he's more distractible here, more reliant on rituals to help ease his nervousness at each new place. We visit bathroom after bathroom to assure him that we can find a quiet one. We take elevator rides, which he finds calming.
One day, another woman and her young son come to visit, and Isaac's friend plays a vigorous game of forts with the boy, carefully constructing them from bolsters and throw pillows. The two sit happily in their forts, and, after a while, Isaac sidles over. We ask him if he wants to play, and there is a brief negotiation while we assure the boys that this interloper won't harm their construction. Finally, they assent, and Isaac takes his place among them, sitting carefully down, a serious expression on his face.
I notice a brief look of confusion: now that I'm here, what do I do? I don't know how to facilitate this, and I'm too late anyway. After a moment, he gets up and wanders into the kitchen. The boys trash the forts and start climbing over their mountains of pillows, and Isaac is momentarily lured back into the game before wandering upstairs to look out the window and play with the shutters.
This is how it's going to be for a while, I realize, and this prospect of seeing him dip briefly into social play is both reassuring and terrifying: reassuring because it's a huge developmental step; terrifying because on the other side (present company excepted, my friends) there be monsters.
We're home now after a long, slow meander up Highway One. He's fast asleep, exhausted, happy to be in a familiar bed, and J. and I are curled up on the couch eating bread and cheese, watching the Olympics.
I miss the ocean already.
Welcome home. xx
Posted by: kristen | August 08, 2008 at 10:36 PM
I know just what you mean. New places and easing into them are difficult. Glad you made it home. (and btw, I love your new banner!)
Posted by: kal | August 09, 2008 at 04:43 AM
It's such a delicate balance isn't it? The need for the familiar coupled with the curiosity about the new, the uncertainty of it all and finding his place...I have faith it will come to him in time. I hope you got some relaxation in,too, while you were away. You were visiting some of my most favorite places! *sigh*
Posted by: Niksmom | August 09, 2008 at 05:53 AM
I feel like that all the time. I know how Isaac feels. That's why I carry a laptop and Blackberry around with me. You know?
xo
Posted by: drama mama | August 09, 2008 at 11:33 AM