Page 6 of Three Not-So-Little Words
An entire box of NERF guns.
We exchange a knowing glance before both of us reach in to grab all that we can carry. Every time we get done playing, we try to reload the guns so that they’re ready for next time.
I give him a slight head start before sending foam bullets into the air. All the boxes and misplaced furniture scattered around make for a fun battleground. We use anything we can to duck behind for cover. Before I know it, the sound of Colton’s laugh is echoing off the walls. That’s exactly how it should be.
I’m determined to fill this home with happy memories. I want the good to outweigh the bad. This will one day be his home just like Miami was.
Seeing him having fun is a great start.
The next thirty minutes is spent running around, trying to shoot each other. When the floor is littered with bullets, and we are both out of energy, I take him into the bathroom to get him ready for bed.
I haven’t unpacked any of the bath toys, so I decide to have him take a shower. Not nearly as much fun as a bath for him, but we’re making it work.
When we finish, and are both in our pajamas, he says, “Daddy, can I sleep with you tonight?”
“Of course, buddy.”
I managed to make my bed earlier and got the TV plugged in. Thank God the internet got hooked up last weekend.
We get settled, and I turn on a nature documentary. Watching these has become our nightly ritual. They’re interesting enough to amuse him but not too interesting that they’ll keep him up all night. They’re my secret weapon for bedtime.
We talk for a few minutes about the animals on the screen. When penguins pop up, I know what’s coming.
“Mommy loved penguins,” he says.
“Yeah, she did,” I agree. “They were her favorite.”
I’m grateful that we have come as far as we have. A year ago, this conversation would have ended in tears–rightfully so. Now, although I know it still makes him sad, we can talk about more of the good memories with his mom.
I say, “Your mom would have owned a penguin if she could have.”
He giggles. “That’s so silly.”
I look down at him. He crinkles his nose when he laughs–just like his mom did. Natalie and I may have not been a couple when she passed away, but I always cared about her. We were still great friends.
I’m grateful that Colton looks just like her. And he has her giant heart. She may not be here anymore, but she gave me the best gift in the world.
“Do you think we are going to like it here?” Colton asks.
“I think we’re going to love it here. This weekend, when you’re gone at Grandma’s, I’m going to get the house in order. Whenyou get back, your room will look great. And I will go out and find some fun stuff to do around town.”
“Do they have a zoo?”
I know that the answer to that is probably no. This is a ridiculously small town. But I’m not going to answer that honestly and open a whole can of worms right before bed.
“Maybe,” I reply.
“Do you think they have penguins?”
“I hope so.”
It’s only a couple more minutes before he’s softly snoring next to me.
This weekend, I have to bust my ass to whip this place into shape. I want to make this transition as seamless as I can so that I can keep a smile on his little face. He doesn’t need to worry himself with all the adult things.
I don’t want him to know that we moved all the way across the country because I needed help. Raising a six-year-old alone is terrifying. Natalie’s mom lives in the area, and she offered to take Colton some of the time on weekends, which is tremendously helpful. Plus, it’s good for him to be around family. Lord knows, my family isn’t in the picture.
Ever since Natalie died, I’ve been living off savings from my MMA career. But trying to pay for my lavish apartment and expensive car with no money coming in sucked up all extra funds pretty quick. Jack, a friend that I used to train with, moved here a few years ago and opened his own auto shop.
