Ricardo and I were taking apart the old sandbox in our yard and Christina asked me how I felt about doing that. And my response was “I’ll probably blog about it,” which is always a good indicator of how things are weighing on me in this universe where I’ve buried a child.
Interestingly, I wasn’t so upset about the actual removal of the sandbox. The kids never played that much in it and, mostly by this point, it’s just in the way. I think I felt more that I should be having sobbing, heaving memories as I take apart yet another childhood memory, partially in the name of having a better lawn. But there you go. The sandbox is gone now and any memories I have of Colin in it are just memories now.
I’d argue he played in it the least of any child. He spend most of 2016 with permanent catheters, which meant a sandbox was off limits. Even when 2017 came and the tubes came out, he was still getting a mild form of chemo, which meant dirty, outside playing wasn’t the smartest idea. And then we had that one year that felt a little normal and then everything fell apart in 2019. If I think about it hard, most of my sandbox memories are of the one back near our apartment in Kreuzberg, where I often took Emma as a toddler.
It’s just another step, I suppose, in rearranging our lives. Maybe it was a good step. Honestly, I was surprised to see that it’s been nearly two weeks since I blogged, but the sandbox removal was part of a larger lawn resuscitation project which has taken up a lot of my time. I’ve also been turning some attention to fiction writing, which might never take me anywhere, but feels a bit like I’m taking control of my corner of the universe again. And now we’re facing two weeks of whatever level of lockdown might come. Case counts are rising in Germany, the government seems unwilling to lay down a complete ban on movement, so we’re all kind of in limbo. But the fact of the matter is that our car seems to be at death’s door and Emma has an edema in a bone in her foot, meaning she can’t really walk. You add it all up, and it seems like a really good argument to stay home for two weeks, trying to make your backyard a little prettier, even if it’s not exactly full of the memories you might wish to have.