I am in a rather melancholy mood..it's Aarons birthday. This one will be special because he had his lower wisdom teeth pulled. It's a huge deal because we have spend a year trying to find someone who was willing to pull them with out using any anti-biotics first. One was infected, and we knew this, but knew it had to go for him to get better. Aaron, who happens to be deadly allergic to most all medicines, has stopped breathing on several occasions when treated with simple anti-biotic drugs most people take with no issues. Not Aaron, little for him in life is normal or easy. More than once in is now twenty three years I have rushed his blue lipped lifeless body to the emergency room after anaphylactict shock set in as a result of a food or drug infraction. This record makes getting him any medical help difficult and dentist after dentist said no to the challenge of removing his impacted teeth. Finally today of all days his birthday, I found myself being his driver and care giver for this extraction.

As we drove along the way to the city, I casually remarked on the blooming of the spring butter cups and how his Dad brought them to me the day he was born. "You were born the day the snow thawed and the butter cups could be seen." I said softly as if he has not heard it a million times.
"I know, you tell me every year, just like you tell me I was born at 8:50, but you didn't look at the clock until 9:45, then worried nobody knew what time I was born."
"Well, I had been watching the clock so close, then you were born, and I forgot to look at it again."
"Yea, but why remember 9:45?"
"I have a thing about remembering dates and time when I have a special memory..always have."
We ride on in quite, with the radio playing county music in the back ground. Country music was the mood of the day we both settled on. Something about ballads and stories seemed fitting. I drop off Aaron and tell him I'll pick him up as soon as I get a call to come get him. He nods, walks from the car, turns around and looks back at me and smiles slightly. The wind catches his blond hair and tosses it across his blue eyes. I sigh out loud, in my mind he should still be so small. He should be a chubby little tot with a crayon yellow dutch boy hair cut on his way to the dentist for his first official check-up. He is not. He is a grown man now, and does not need me to hold his hand or even be sitting in the waiting room.
With little to do and time to kill, John and I head out down main street to check out the florist and gift shop. I find rows and rows of marked down Valentines day merchandise. I start to look at the stuffed plush animals. John pulls at a long eared bunny and laughs, squeeze it, then puts it back on the shelf. Too old to ask for it, and yet still wanting it just a touch. I smile. As I watch John pushing aside one bunny for another, I see a penguin holding a red heart. My heart skips a beat. Aaron loved penguins as a child and to this day, whenever I see anything with a penguin I am tempted to buy it for him.
When he was small, I bought books and cereal bowls, shirts, socks, and stickers all with penguins adored over the surfaces. He delighted in the collection, until he was too old for such. One day I bought a very realistic looking stuffed penguin for him, and handed it to him as a happy. He frowned and handed it back to me "Mom, I am not a baby, don't buy me anymore of this junk." he said and huffed off the way Fourteen year olds do. I stood there crushed and hurt and watched him go. I never bought him another toy. Days later I told him that had komono dragons been popular animals to plaster the market with the way penguins had, I am sure he would still be collecting them. His second love had been komono dragons, so much so, that when we couldn't find any toys ones to buy, we had to take him to the zoo to see them for real. He was three then and wowed the adults around us with the precise manner in which he spouted out facts about the creatures habitats and geography of the land they inhabited. A subject that he knew so very well. I smile remembering him, small, with his little professor speech in rote fashion spouting off information like a robot on over drive. I miss that little guy.
I cannot put the penguin down. I look at the bright red heart covering it's chest, and long to give to someone who will love it and cherish it. I hand it to John who laughs and hands it back to me. I put it down and walk over to look at jelly beans and fudge. A few minutes later I feel John's hand on my back and I turn around. He is standing there with a smile as wide as all out doors, and holding the penguin.
"Want it?" I ask
John laughs and pushes the penguin in my hands, I study his face for some understanding of his actions. His eyes are bright and full of laughter as he looks at me with fleeting eye contact. He pats my hands as I try to hand him the toy. I am left confused, does he want it, or does he feel my need for it. I am unsure of why, but I take it and make my way to the register.
In the safety of the car I sit waiting on Aaron to exit the dentist office, the penguin on my lap. I am looking straight ahead and do no see him walk toward the passenger side and open the door. He is in pain, but a look of relief on his face. He slips into the car and throws his body hard into the seat.
"Oh Mom, a penguin! cool, who is it for?" he says between swallowing and with cotton and gauze stuffed in his mouth.
"Nobody and everyone." I say as I reach for the ignition and start the car. We travel in silence and then Aaron says,"Can I just hold it for a minute and remember being small?" and I choke back tears and say nothing as I hand him the stuffed toy. I watch the corners of his mouth turn up a little as his eyes close and he holds the penguin close to his heart and leans back and slides down deeper into the seat. I look at the clock on the dash board...I want to remember what time it is...as my heart makes a memory of this day.