I dug through the bread and cereal drawer for breakfast, and came upon an almost empty box of Kellog's Frosted Flakes. It made me think of you because...
1. I don't buy "branded" cereals for myself. I eat the off-the-beaten-path brands that you might say "tastes like cardboard!" Or, as you would have announced so unabashedly when you were seven years old: "YUCK! That's not cereal!"
We were in Canada, visiting the Lewis family; there were the most delicious home-made cinnamon rolls at the breakfast table, and you exclaimed "This isn't cinnamon! I want the real one, like at the store [in Truk]!"
And 2. Only you, so well-meaning, would leave just a little bit for the next person to eat, even if the leftover is barely enough for a full meal. Is it because you don't want to be labeled "The One Who Ate It All!"? The seven-year old Miko would not have eaten a whole bowl of cereal, but not because of the reasons above. You ate so excruciatingly slow - slower than molasses growing in January! - that I ended up taking your food away from you because we had to be somewhere already. We missed the ferry once, because you took almost forty-five minutes to eat a bowl of cereal. You piled the food in one cheek, closed your eyes, and let your hands play out a fight scene, slashing and punching the air. Your imagination was so real to you!
You wouldn't complain about me taking away your food though. You never did complain. Except one day, in the heat of a July afternoon, strapped in on your booster seat at the back of the car, you suddenly exclaimed "MAN, IT IS FREAKING HOT!" Uncle 5-Star and I burst out laughing because you sounded just like him.
You used to ask to be placed inside the shopping cart at the store, or to be carried on my back when we hiked through Yost Park, or to be supported by your feet so that you could hold on to the playground monkey bar without actually hanging on yourself.
2006
2001
I used to call you Sunshine because you were a ray of sunshine, so infectiously happy, anyone who met you couldn't help but smile, as if a ray of sunlight just warmed them. Now you go by "Miks", you have a more grown-up sense of humor, you have a teenager's freedom, and yet you know your limits. You're a gentleman: you open doors for me, you offer to carry the groceries for me, you compliment me on my most dramatic haircut by saying "It's boyish, but you still look good!" You tell me "You tried, Tita Netty..." when I couldn't make it over the A-frame wall of the Mud Factor Race, "You did good!" That's right, you now surpass me by physical strength.
So when I ate that less-than-one-bowl's worth of cereal this morning, I couldn't help but miss you so very much. You will always be my sunshine, no matter how much bigger and stronger than me you become.
But next time, just eat it all. Don't leave a teasingly small amount of cereal for me to find when I'm starving!
Love,
Tita Netty
