Payton and His Father

Just a short one that will pull at your heartstrings

“Payton, we’ve been over this” sighed the mother, as she tiredly tried to catch her son and put his shirt back on. “Today is the first day of school, and you need to wear clothes to school.”

“Then school isn’t for me!” cried Payton, crossing his arms and glaring in a way that only a six year old boy can. His reddish brown fringe fell endearingly over his forehead, not long enough yet to obscure his strikingly blue eyes. He stood defiantly in the doorway of his bedroom, his little khaki pants askew and missing a sock. His stance emanated stubbornness, and his mother knew it would be a miracle if she got him dressed in time to make the school bus.

This kind of rebellion was nothing new with her eldest child. His sister, Bethany, was still in diapers, and could have been the poster child for the all-American family. With curly blond hair already covering her head, she was the most peaceful nine-month-old a mother could ask for. But Payton was a different story. From his inception, there had been nothing but complications, and by the time his mother delivered him, they were relieved he was even breathing. As he grew up, he continued to cause his mother pain. Endless nights of screaming and crying, days of rambunctious exploration and more than the occasional standoff left her with little energy for anything else. The other mothers assured her that school would sap most of his energy, but she wasn’t even sure she could get him to the bus stop, let alone into the school. Idly, she wondered if the superintendent would grant an exception on accounts of impossible child. Before she started to seriously consider it, Payton pulled a stunt typical of Payton:  he sprinted out of the room and leaped down the stairs.

                By this point in motherhood, she had learned not to have a panic attack every time her children left her sight, but his daredevil leaps still made her heart race, and she rushed out of the bedroom to chase after him. Pounding down the stairs, she was brought up short. There he was, her little boy, sitting quietly at the bottom of the stairs. At first, the sight of her child sitting still was enough to spark another panic attack, until she realised what he was looking at. Gently, she walked over to him and bent down, positioning herself behind him on the carpet. As she pulled one arm through his sleeve, she stole a glance at his face. His tiny mouth, normally open and chatty, was pursed into a thin line, and his eyes, normally alert and curious, shone with unshed tears. He barely put up a fight as she slid on his other sock and his sneakers, and when she left to grab his lunch from the kitchen, he remained rooted in the same spot, staring at the frame on the wall.

                When she walked back towards the door, her breath caught as she watched her son walk over to the picture on the wall. Carefully, he climbed onto the small bench in the front hall, and stood as close to the portrait as possible. She stopped in the doorway, and watched him examine it with all the concentration a boy of six could muster. And as she heard him speak, her heart broke.

                “Dad, I really don’t want to go to school. Do I have to?” he pleaded with the portrait, listening intently for an answer. As his mother came up behind him, he turned to her. “I’m pretty sure Dad doesn’t think I have to go either” he said matter-of-factly. Seeing the hope in his eyes nearly brought her to tears, and she quickly brushed them aside as she put his coat on. “Payton, honey, of  course Dad wants you to go to school. He did when he was you age too, this very same school.” The mention of his father sparked curiosity in her son, and he finally pulled on his toque and mitts. “I guess I can go” he said finally, after staring at the picture a moment longer. “Bye Dad” he said as he headed for the front door, “I’ll see you soon!”

                As she headed out of the house behind him, his mother looked back at the portrait of the man on the wall. “I’ll see you soon too, my love”, and quietly shut the front door, getting one last glimpse of his uniform, and the flag folded neatly beside the frame.