A Little Treat, Just Because

Saturday, February 26, 2005

A Little Leon Goes A Long Way

I didn't want to write this week because I couldn't think of anything good to say. That is, until tonight.

First, the back story. Last weekend, I reuinted with two girlfriends from college who I had not seen in ages. We had dinner at the Cheesecake Factory, and I left with a slab of chocolate ganache cake and a heapin' helping o' food poisoning. (Yes, I ate chicken.) Regardless, I still had a lot of fun with my friends, but I continued to feel terribly ill the whole rest of the week.

On Monday, while I was making Kaboom's lunch, he was toddling in and out of the kitchen, practicing his Michael Flately/Jennifer Beals move when he suddenly fell flat on his face. The fact that he fell is nothing. At age 19 months, falling is what he does best. But this time, his forehead landed square on the edge of the dog's ceramic water bowl. When I picked him up, blood was practically squirting out of his head. Lots of blood. So much, he couldn't see out of his left eye. And it was a small wound. (Okay, that's all I'll say to describe what was going on at home. I don't even want to talk about how helpless I felt. It's hard to think about it without feeling guilty about that damn bowl. Onto the hospital.)

Like everyone who visits the emergency room, we spent a lot of time sitting and waiting. But the actual process of cleaning the wound and applying some sort of Amazing Medical Miracle SuperGlue (in lieu of stiches) took mere minutes. Once home, Kaboom was good-as-new, ready to run and play as if nothing had happened.

As for me, while riding waves of nausea on the sofa, I winced every single time Kaboom looked like he might take a tumble. And when he actually fell down, I reflexively covered my eyes. I know I can't live like that and stay sane. I don't know if there are statistics on how frequently the average toddler falls in a given day, but it must be something like ELEVEN HUNDRED MILLION times.

Tonight, the boo-boo looks better, I'm feeling nearly normal, and a friend and I went to see Leon Russell in concert. His "Willo' The Wisp" album plays and important role in my memories of childhood. Dad bought it in 1975, and he, my sisters, and I would dance to it together in the living room. When I hear Leon sing "Back to the Island," I am transported. Somehow, that song makes my worries seem small and insignificant. (Cue the ocean and bird sounds.)

Well I hope you understand, I just had to go back to the island
And watch the sun go down (sit and watch the sun go down)
Hear the sea roll in (listen to the sea roll in)
But I'll be thinking of you (yes, and I'll be thinking of you)
And how it might have been (thinking how it might have been)
Hear the night birds cry (listen to the night birds cry)
Watch the sunset die (sit and watch the sunset die)
Well I hope you understand, I just had to go back to the island

After the concert, I saw a small group of people waiting at the door of Leon's old tourbus. I hurried to my car to grab a piece of paper and a pen and then waited among the mostly-stoned fans for Leon to show. His bass player appeared from inside the bus and said that although Leon would not be coming out, he was willing to sign a few autographs.

When I was a kid, I got Pat Boone's autograph at a celebrity golf tournament. Since it looked like "Pot Bone," I was unimpressed and threw it away. When the bass player returned with Leon's signature, it looked like "LRu," only curly. I'll be keeping this one.


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