17 July 2003 (Thursday)

in which his parents embarrass him thoroughly

As usual, I should be in bed.

Soren is out of town, but his parents are in. Yesterday was the first time we've gotten together without their son present, and they surprised me with their warmth. I mean, they've always been nice, but I wondered whether things would turn awkward without the common-link person in the room. But no, they seemed genuinely to enjoy my company, as much as I did theirs. Fine conversation was had by all.

At one point his mother brought out photo albums, and I was unreasonably startled by pictures of Soren as a child. I realized then: I've known this man for such a small span of time. I understand, in abstract terms, that my boyfriend was once an infant, then a hyperactive little boy, then a teenager with braces. He's told me this. But on some level I thought of him only as someone in my life -- a supporting character in my screenplay, albeit a crucial one. He is in my life therefore he exists. Very Cartesian. Then I flipped through a book of photographs, and suddenly I was the supporting character, one who doesn't even come onscreen until pretty late in the movie. Soren has a history, decades of it, that I will never be privy to, no matter how many stories he tells me.

My favorite photo is one of him traversing a fallen log at age six, a box of raisins in one hand and a look of intense concentration furrowing his brow. He still does that.

posted by enjelani @ 01:44 AM PST [ link ]