Dragon and Lava

“Mama, mama come look at me, look what I made!”

“One minute baby,” I chuckled as a

small hand wrapped around my arm and leaned with all the weight a little boy

could offer towards a living room happily cluttered with toys and trinkets. A

cobbled path of multicolored Legos and an audience of dolls invited me closer

to what looked like a deconstructed couch garnished with sheets from my own

bedroom. Oh boy, I stared in awe, partially in shock of the

perilous chaos that was my living room, and yet extremely impressed with how

resourceful a five year old could be.

“It’s a castle for you mama, you’re

the princess! and the floor is lava, and I’m the knight! And…and…don’t worry

though cuz Mr. Sniffles will guard and keep you safe always!”  

I watched as the green raggedy

fluff clenched between my son’s arm was valiantly placed right in front of me.

The small doe eyed dragon had seen its prime long ago and now had its fur

“Loved off” by the boy. If it wasn’t for my son’s affection for the object, Its

new home would be in the trash.

“The game is called Dragon and

Lava!” he pronounced in an authoritative manner as he continued spelling out

the rules of the game. This was my son's absolute favorite game to play, a

religious ritual for the two of us on Saturdays. Each week the forts became

bigger, bulkier, better, and more destructive to the living room to my own

disdain. I always played along though, pretending to see the massive waterfalls

of lava pouring from the caldera pit where a giant castle would be the center

of. I would scream when the vicious Mr. Sniffles spit fireballs at the gallant

knight, whose blue cape and helmet bobbled very loosely about the room. I would

follow the knight from the fort to the couch to behind the coffee table,

because to him, to him this meager little room was an entire world. It was an

entire ocean when we were pirates and Mr. Sniffles a treacherous sea monster.

It was the vast universe when we transported planet to planet in “find the

aliens”. I could never offer the boy more than an undersized two bedroom house,

or a TV for video games, or a man to call his father. So I would gladly pretend

that I saw the many worlds and magical things that he did in that ten by

thirteen sized room.

We played for hours, Me, my son,

and gross little mister sniffles, until my legs melted into the carpet with

exhaustion. 

“Come my baby, I think It’s time

for bed, what do you think?” I suggested desperately.

“No mama I want to play more with

you and Mr. Sniffles!” Tears began to well up his eyes.

“Bring Mr. Sniffles with you to

bed, and I’ll read you a story about dragons!” I said as I picked up the boy

using the rest of my strength and carried him to his room. When story time

ended, and I had successfully lulled the boy and his dragon to sleep, I went

over and shut the blinds and went on my own way to bed.

Now the dusty blinds, closed for many

months now, were finally opened.  Thin strips of light shed onto boxes of

little lost treasures. The air so thick with dust that it began to provide a

deodorant to the small tiny space: It was nearly as tangible as the memory that

reeked from every corner, every object, every picture hanging on the wall.

Boxes piled high like pillars filled the room, marked by bold sharpie: “Shoes”,

“Shirts”, “Blankets”, “Toys”, “Books”,  they whispered to me and seemed to

reach out and slap me until I found myself on my knees from the rendition that

was suffocating me internally. I felt as though I was going to vomit

everywhere, I had pretended to be fine for these many months, avoiding this

room. I had pretended that the shadows under the door from the tree outside

were his little feet dancing side to side, But I couldn’t pretend anymore.

Surveilling the room I examined all

the pieces of him, all stored neatly into the brown boxes. One in particular

stopped and held my gaze, it read “Favorite things.”  The words lit up the

room which seemed to shrink with every step I took towards the box until I felt

So claustrophobic that the only relief that could be offered, the only way I

would be able to breathe again, was if I opened it. My fingers edged the

plastic tape that safely stored the contents. Who was I to rip it apart, it was

merely doing its job, my breathing grew heavier, I should just leave now, It was stupid to come in

here in the first place, you failed again, you failed, stupid woman, stupid

woman! In a mad frustration I

took the box and threw it across the room. It tumbled into a tower of boxes

like a bad game of Jenga which toppled over the “Favorite things.” When I

realized What I had done I perked up from my state of melancholy rage.

“NOOO!” I yelled as I scurried on

all fours to find the box. When I finally retrieved the “Favorite things” from

the avalanche that it had suffered I noticed it had been heavily damaged and

split open. I stopped and stared in awe! A fluffy green Mr. Sniffles sat atop a

pile of race cars, Legos, and other colorful trinkets and he stared directly at

me. It was the most beautiful sight I had ever seen, an entire kingdom inside

the tiny cardboard square. Mr. Sniffles sat upon a massive treasure yet the

poor thing was lost without an owner to love the rest of his fur off. Tears

welled in my eyes and I swiped the dragon from its unused hoard and clenched it

tight, hoping perhaps It would push through my chest and wrap around my own

heart to keep it from falling apart. 

“I’ll always protect you.”