you might think this is a post about michael jackson.

but it's not...

it is about my boy...9...

who met me at my car door last night
to tell me that MJ was in a coma...

who told me once that
when he is scared at night
he just says
"micheal jackson"
in his head in a snappy, superstar kind of way
and that it helps...

who cried on my shoulder
and held my hand tight
when he heard that MJ
did in fact die....

he had none of his cds...didn't listen to
hardly any of his music...didn't know any
of the "media" drama that surrounded MJ
but had somehow turned MJ
into an odd sort of talisman for him...

he told me last night
that he would do this
{insert micheal jackson "hooohoooo" like scream here}
to remember him by...
and today
randomly broke out into a few
micheal jackson moves...
grabbing himself and trying to
moonwalk.

when i took him to the dentist this morning,
she asked him if he still wanted to be MJ
when he grew up? and did he hear about
what happened? apparently she was
at 9's school for cleanings a month ago
and 9 told her then all about his obsession...

i tried to share my story with him
of how i felt when mr hooper died
on sesame street...but i'm not sure it's the same.

i was older than 9 when that happened
and i didn't want to be mr hooper when i grew up...
instead i felt i had lost a piece of childhood
where i think 9 feels he has lost something else....
and he is fixated on the "only 50" part...
everyone says "he was only 50"...
and i know in 9's mind
he is thinking
grammy is past 50, so is nana and pepe...
and so on and so forth...

and again...
there is no protection...no bubble wrap
no box i can put them to keep them from harm...
there is only hugs..and understanding...
and listening...and letting him know
it's ok to cry.