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Winding Oak's Bookology Magazine

Tag Archives | twins

Bambi

by Melanie Heuiser Hill

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BambiWhen I was 16, my aunt gave birth to twin boys. We did not see them nearly often enough as they were growing up (we were separated by several states), but the memories I have of those boys when they were little are clear in a way they are not with regard to my other cousins. (I’m the oldest of many cousins on that side—there were little kids everywhere for a few years.)

I remember spooning baby food into their little mouths—two-handed, hardly able to keep up. I remember catching them as they jumped off the diving board, and how hard they held onto my neck as we swam to the side. I remember their little boy energy (x2!) as they ran the circle between the living room, dining room, kitchen, and front hall in my grandparents’ house.

And I remember reading Bambi to them as if it was yesterday. The boys were almost three, I believe. We’d had a big day and they were finally bathed, in their pajamas, and it was time to settle-down for the night. I asked them to pick a book we could read together. They brought me Disney’s Bambi, a book that was almost as big as they were—they had to take turns lugging it across the room. Together they heaved it onto my lap, then climbed up on the couch and sank in beside me, one on each side.

I opened the over-sized book and started reading. They were immediately absorbed, each of them leaning into me…breathing deeply…settling down, as was the goal. I snuggled down between the two shampoo smelling darlings, blissfully happy….

I don’t know how, but I totally forgot Bambi’s mom dies. I turned the page and there she was in the upper left-hand corner, sprawled on her side, blood in the snow. I quickly adjusted my grip on the book, placing my hand over her body. I felt a flash of anger. Seriously? We had to cover maternal death before they were three?! I smoothly adjusted the words, leaving things a bit vague as to where Bambi’s mother went….

But the boys knew the story. They sat up. One moved my hand off of Bambi’s lifeless mother, and the other said, “Why did Bambi’s Mama die?”

I will never forget those sweet little faces looking up at me, anguished curiosity pooled in their big eyes. My heart broke right there and I started to cry. What could I say? Just the facts? A hunter shot her. It’s The Disney Way? The mothers always die. The truth? Sometimes horrible things happen….

I don’t know what I offered as explanation. I remember that they stood on the couch and bounced, probably trying to make me laugh instead of sob all over their book. Eventually, I pulled it together and we sank back into our cozy reading position to finish the grand saga of Bambi. As I read, one of them kept his hand on my arm, his little fingers rising and falling in a soothing pat.

One of those boys—the patter—became a father last December. The other became a father earlier this week. This is astounding to me. I look at the pictures of these grown men (they’re THIRTY now!) holding their wee babies and all I see are the faces of those sweet little boys—their impish grins, their big eyes full of love and questions, their pride and wonder at all that life holds…. The razor stubble doesn’t fool me at all—time just moves in weird ways, I guess. The babies now have babies.

They will be wonderful fathers, I’ve no doubt. I wish for them so many things, but especially the joy of reading to their kids as they grow. It’s been a favorite part of parenting for me. And it’s my favorite memory of being their cousin, too.

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The Crossover

The Crossover Kwame Alexander Houghton Mifflin Harcourt From the moment I began reading this poetry collection, I knew it was a different type of book because the rhythms, the cadence, were infused with energy and awareness. The Crossover is primarily free verse, with a few hiphop, rhythmic poems that change up the action. The narrator, […]

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