When Grown-Ups Roll on Grass
Facing the child within
Nene wipes himself clean after rolling in the grass. No, not in a dream, but similar to the nightmares he gets sometimes. Scary ones where he’s rolling downhill, over and through the grass until BLAM — he hits the street. Then it’s lights-on and he’s awake. No. This is not one of those dreams.
Nene gets up and scratches his arms hard, leaving a few ashen streaks that’ll sprout blood later. One of those rolly-pollies catches his attention. He picks it up and watches it curl. Then he moves on. His dad is probably training someone at the courts, his sister bumping Cheetah Girls in the car. Nene’s off on his own as usual, coming up with plots in that funny head.
While wandering he comes to a house with a white fence and one of those portals that looks like a royal gateway from the Orient. The gate swings open out of nowhere and knocks him flat on his flat butt.
"Ow!" Nene proclaims quite dramatically, as is normal for him.
A man with fuzzy hair and glasses appears, and says, "Oh, shh-oot. I’m sorry little man. You okay?"
"Yeah. I think I hit my braces, but yeah."
"Ah, I see. I thought you scraped your arm, though, your teeth are a little crooked."
Nene wasn’t expecting this comment coming from an adult. He keeps observing the man, lips shut to hide his ‘crooked teeth’.
"Hey, you wanna come see?" Nene makes a look like See what, now? "Come and see your house, silly!"
"My house? But we don’t live — "
"Not yet, little man. That’s ‘cuz you are me. Well, the small me. I’ll show you what I mean ..."
After Nene is convinced that the man is not some creepy poser, he opts to go visit the guy’s house. At first, he’s thrilled to know the man has such a cool home with a yard and big portal-type gate. He must be doing pretty well! — futuristically speaking.
"Do we go in through the back?" says Nene.
"You could say that." The two slip around the side of the house and reach a patio with a garage nestled in its corner. The man opens up the door and welcomes Nene into his home.
"Woah, you live in a garage? This is even cooler than a house!" He takes a quick 0.2-second run into the living room. "I always wanted a TV in my room. Lucky. Where do you watch movies at?"
"Mostly streaming services." Crickets. "Netflix, uh … Hulu?" More crickets.
"Ooh, those are a lot of books. You’ve read all of those?"
"Not even close," says the man.
"I can’t believe you still have these. And this! How old are you? What is this? Oh my God, this phone is so futuristical. And this computer, I mean, what do you call ‘em?"
"That’s a laptop. (Man, I forgot how much I used to talk) So what do you think? Not bad, huh?"
Nene nods. "It’s perfect for us! Best part is you don’t have to share it with anybody, not even our sister. I can’t stand her!"
"Well, we do have one roommate. And don’t trip about your sister. You two will actually be friends one day."
"I don’t think so. Hey, where are all the drawings and stuff? You don’t like dinosaurs or Pleistocene megafauna anymore?"
The man is amazed at how much he knew back then, smirking in a kind of embarrassed pride. He shrugs. "Got nothing against them. They just don’t help me pay the rent."
"Rent! That’s boring. Don’t tell me you became a boring grown-up that doesn’t play at the park or draw or watch animations or all that. Well, at least my teeth get better — eventually. How old are you? These decorations are so plain."
"Woah, mister! I got these from Bahia, Brazil. I bet you don’t even know where that is."
"I’m going to Brazil?! I want to go there."
"Yeah, little man. Your wife is from there too. Too bad you couldn’t meet her today. She’s pretty wacky, but you’ll be glad to have her. She’ll save you from this crazy life ..." The man makes sure to pause before he gets into too much detail. Better to keep himself innocent while he can.
"That’s cool." Nene goes on to ask lots of questions, touching on subjects like mom and dad ever getting back together, whether he still visits gramma and grampa’s house, what his sweet sixteen will be like, if he ever becomes a paleontologist (But I’ll settle for an artist, Nene admits). After such a grilling session, the man sits and hangs his head, tears swelling up in his eyes. All these hopes and dreams from childhood have hit him right in the sweet spot. It’s funny how life can turn out so different.
"Things haven’t been how we planned, little man. There’s some stuff you gonna have to go through. Shoot, I’m going through it right now."
Suddenly, all the awe Nene felt at meeting his future self sort of dies down.
He feels a sense of loss (if not a mild existential crisis, given the situation). The man grabs his shoulder.
"Look, no matter what happens to us, what we been through — You don’t have to worry about that. You’re a kid, man. Go have fun. Keep talking with your toys and making up stories with your Beanie Babies. Keep drawing as much as you can and learning about Pleistocene mega-fans. Go to as many sleepovers and friends' houses as you want. All of that is gonna make us better."
Nene looked at him, doubtfully. "I’m serious!" and he tickles his kid version on their weak spot near the back of the ribs until he can’t conceal the laughter anymore.
"You wanna go roll in the grass then?" Nene says as he leaves the cozy garage home.
"I’m down. Oh, and just a tip about those scary falling dreams; it’s ‘cuz you’re on the top bunk of the bed. Sleep on the bottom and you won’t have no more nightmares."
“You need to speak better English,” Nene says. The man thinks to himself Aren’t you right about that! and notices that his advice went completely unregistered. Instead, before the man could say ‘night’, Nene is on the ground taking a face-full of grass and dirt and clovers and whatever else grows on city lawns. He takes to and doesn’t stop until he reaches the bottom of the hill.
"Wow, this is some trippy circle-of-life type stuff. God, I used to love Lion King." The man kneels down, makes sure he won’t injure his knees, and starts to roll. He goes slowly at first. Then one gradual rotation before another until he’s built up a good speed. From there he spins faster and faster until he’s reached that level so desired by kids who roll down hills. The man, in an odd daze, relives the sensation of one of his old and most notorious dreams; the one where he is rolling uncontrollably on a grassy knoll, belly sinking as if he were falling from a thousand stories high. The sensation is close, and here he would normally hit the street, jolting himself awake in a fury of panic and sweat.
But he doesn't.
The man keeps on rolling, keeps on moving. He tumbles downward, the smell of fresh-cut grass stained into his nostrils. Though he can’t see where he’s going, much less where he is, he tumbles all the same. He keeps on laughing and breathing, scraped elbows and all, with Nene the little man right there, rolling always by his side.
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