Friday, June 23, 2006

Frank's Room

The room where I used to keep all my treasures and pretend that I was working holds the one that outshines them all now. I've moved my camera gear into the dressing room and my computer out into the nebulous area between the living room and the dining room, with my back to the bar and Leica's hideout under the intercom on my right. One meter to my right is the door to Franklin's room and on the wall perpendicular to the one I'm facing is a deep umber antique altar refinished fofor us as a wedding gift by my in-laws which now functions as the dining room table. THe chairs surrounding it on three sides, unfortunately are antique replicas which were built for people born on this side of the world. Their tongue-and-groove construction, as ingenious as it is, will not support my burger-eating ass whether I lean back on one leg or not. Friends of mine who eat salad also have been known to make popping noises. My wife, the slender woman that she is, has no problem alone, or with the 12kg Frankfurter in her lap.

I've taken the rickety bookshelf from Frank's room as well as my guitars, and a few posters. This picture hangs on the wall at the foot of his bed. There's a dresser next to the head of his bed on which stands a poster chronicling the history of Leica cameras. As his mom has an ever-expanding belly, once again, I'm not allowed to pound any nails into the walls of our place, and serious redecorating is going to have to wait until about January.

The bed has been occupied every night since June 9th, the first day of the World Cup, when Franklin made the move. For four days, his mom and dad traded off keeping him company in bed, but only his father had the magic touch of sleep for the first two weeks. Usually a warm hug and a few Beatles and Grateful Dead songs sung softly into his ear is enough to get him to drop off.

Day before yesterday, though, we went to B&Q and picked up some glow in the dark star stickers and taped clusters of them above his bed. Now, when he finishes his bottle, he lays his head down on the pillow and marvels in their fluorescent glow. Maggie has put him to sleep every night since the stars went up without a single tear.

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