December 29th, 2023
Small children are like emotional barometers. They have a keen sense for mood changes, especially among the adults they know. Just as a regular barometer can measure a fluctuation in air pressure, little kids can detect the emotional wellbeing of those around them. Like Obi-Wan Kenobi in Star Wars, they know when there is a disturbance in the Force. The difference is that a small child can’t do anything about it.
Our three-year-old grandson, Asher, is an excellent barometer. He intuitively knows when something is off. Asher is verbally very strong for a boy his age, but he can’t describe what he feels. He is probably too young to understand what he feels, much less adequately express it. To be honest, even though I have six decades more life experience than Asher, I often can’t express what I am feeling or what others might be feeling. Asher may not be able to comprehend the emotions swirling around him, but he knows when things are wrong.
I remember when I was a little boy being able to predict when my parents would fight. I would know hours in advance of the coming storm. Sometimes, I could tell days in advance. I was a barometer then too. I could feel the heaviness of the air in the house. I noticed the unusual silences between my mother and father. The tension was like a charge static electricity that was ever increasing. Then, suddenly, my world would become very loud and chaotic. That was almost a relief.
What does Asher detect in our home? Well, for one individual known to Asher, there are some serious legal issues coming to a head very soon. These problems hover like black clouds on the horizon. Every once in a while, the person in question can hear the rumble of thunder or glimpse a flash of lightning. The individual’s uncertainty and anxiety increase with each passing day, and everyone else in the house shares those feelings, including the little boy. There is an additional family member staying in our house, but nobody knows for how long. That creates more uncertainty. Then then there is also the frenetic energy of the holiday season, both joyous and stressful.
So, what does Asher do? He acts out. Adults do that too, but somehow, we expect kids to behave better than we do. He gets upset and cries, for apparently no reason. Of course, there is a reason, but he can’t explain what it is. He feels our tension and fear and doesn’t know what to do with it. I don’t know what to do with it either. I am old enough to pretend that I have a handle on the situation. Asher hasn’t learned to lie to himself yet.
Asher takes comfort in routine. He likes things to be a certain way all the time. That doesn’t often happen in our house. The only thing here that’s predictable is that nothing is predictable. An adult can somehow adjust to that state of affairs, at least for a while. A little kid cannot. The boy craves security, and we try to provide that. Still, it is not enough.
Asher does not like to go to bed alone, and he does not like to wake up alone. Almost always, one of us is there to tuck him in and stay with him at night, and somebody (generally me) takes charge of the lad when he is ready to get up.
Asher will often wake up in the middle of the night. Lately, his plan of action is to storm into my bedroom and demand my immediate attention. He lacks subtlety. Asher will never be a ninja. He will slam open the bedroom door, stomp over to my bedside, and yell,
“Grandpa, get up!”
I make it clear to him that I am not going to get up. Then he goes with Plan B and says,
“I want to come in bed. Lift me up.”
I do.
Then he lies next to me and says, “I want to cuddle.”
He lies on my right arm. Slowly, I hear his breathing become quiet and even. I can feel his muscles gradually relax. Asher falls asleep.
The boy feels safe again. So, do I.
Frank is Emptiness 