Thoughts Like an Etch-a-Sketch

I speak in a collection of ya ba deh’s, kye zu ba’s, and beh lou leh’s.

Somehow it’s okay, thank you, and how much is how little I need to survive. 

But I understand in a collection of lines.

You speak in shapes and curves. Expressions that go from point A to point B. They fill your face like an etch a sketch. One step back and I can see the clear picture you are dialing in. 

We play a Pictionary game of conversation.

But we are both impatient competitors and always guess the wrong answer. 

Good thing we never keep score. 

Our dialogue begins with our tongue, moves to our fingertips, and always ends in lines.

For this is how I understand you best. 

Not now teacher, we are busy!

Your crescent shaped eyes, furrowed brow, and hunched question mark shoulders shout patiently at me when I walk over to hand you my trash so you can help me dispose it. 

You’re a curious thing aren’t you?

Your unfamiliar eyebrows question me like a piercing spotlight. You, the detective. I, the suspect. As I try and piece together my story for you just like I rehearsed. 

I’m so worried about you.

Your crossed arms exclaim. Hugging your body like a straight jacket, trying to keep you from exploding into action: cleaning, cooking, and caressing me back to health like you’ve been taught you should do. 

Can you read the lines like I can?

And what do my lines say to you? 

Thank you for caring for me.

Do you see that in the smile through feverish sweats I give you while you pat my back? 

Oh come on, stop teasing me.

My grin, raised brow, and eye roll says when you dump more rice on my plate: a joke you play, both of us knowing my belly has reached it’s capacity. 

I’m frustrated and lonely.

The three lines on my wrinkly forehead scream this at you. Don’t you hear it? 

How will I ever leave you?

The wrinkled corners of my eyes whisper as they fight not to conceal my emotion as we talk about how I have one more year with you. 

I want to shake you clean. Make you into a new etch a sketch.

One bigger with more buttons. One that can make complex sentences. Even elaborate on emotions. But still keeps its basic functions: asking simple questions like where are you going? And when will you return? 

But there is no Toys-R-Us in this land. And human beings cannot be exchanged.

I understand the murmurs that I pushed aside before. 

One year in and I’m curious about them.

Do they really match the lines I assigned to you? Are the murmurs better than the secret language of babbles and gestures I’ve created? 

Before I was crawling. But now? Now I’m running.

And my mind is bored with this game we play.