Hindsight 2020
In December of 2019, a friend and artist Julie Hammond reached out to 20 artists about doing some writing for a new, collaborative project. The prompt was to write something every 20 days for a year. I signed on because I’m a big fan of Julie’s, but also I was game for some practice — writing is something I always wish I had more time to do.
At the start of 2020, I don’t think any of us could have predicted what the year would have in store for us. And as I kept up my writing every 20 days (or tried my best, anyway), I started to see these offerings as a collective record of a very strange/unsettling/remarkable year, not without its challenges and beauty; its complicated messiness and low tide moments. And my luck, in all of it.
I wrote about my kids, mostly. I wrote new stuff, unearthed some old bits and played inside of them, and I sometimes spied on my kids and wrote down what they said. I thought I would share 4 offerings here — one for each season of 2020. I’ll keep you posted about what Julie’s planning to do with all these bits. Thanks for reading.
*Julie asked us to write all names as just the first letter and a couple of dashes.
January 13, 2020
H-- will grow up, regardless.
He will make his way into and through the world.
His life will be his own.
This is true, but I can't quite wrap myself around it.
H-- is still very much a part of me. Still mine.
One day soon he will no longer be.
We have started to fight. Nothing too serious, but the beginnings of claws to come -- I sense it.
Our conflict is still a thin membrane between us.
Ready to dissolve when needed.
One day soon it will thicken.
H-- asks questions about the future.
These questions I can't answer.
My making up is more transparent now.
He scrutinizes.
His eyes turn away.
One day I will forget this way he looks at me.
Nonetheless.
April 2, 2020
I don't know.
Are you equipped with a fart in a bottle?
I don't know.
I don't know if you should really be down here.
You just need the ability to fly.
You just need the ability to fly and then you can be here.
You should always come into this thing with a magic mirror,
Find some lava or something,
Or die from falling,
I'll just do whatever I want.
In this realm that I'm not allowed to be in.
Where's the ground?
Where's the ground?
There's actually some good pickaxes.
I came here to get something.
Just go to micro soft.
That makes no sense.
I'm not going to explain it to you.
Oh I forgot there were gold bars here.
Oh hello there.
I'm going to turn back soon.
Hi A--.
Say hello to A-- for me.
I thought I dropped wings but I didn't.
I need a flame thrower.
My god why is it doing this to me.
I don't have a flame thrower.
I can't craft one yet.
I was incinerated.
Don't blow up my house.
Come with me.
Come here with me and I'll give you OP stuff.
Oh hey A--.
Can you please.
Just cooperate.
What does he have.
A black counter weight?
Do you have a yo-yo?
Because...
Where are you going?
Where are you going?
I may have something.
I may have something over at the snow house.
Yeah it's really relatively close.
I'm pretty sure you'll get there.
How dare you!
Oh yeah you can take those goggles.
I mean I don't need them.
I have an awesome idea where we can get stuff.
Follow me.
Follow me.
Just give me a sec.
See ya!
See yaaaaaa!
See you there.
I'll just see you there.
You should be approaching.
I should actually give you the bee-keeper.
When you get here.
When you get here.
When you get here.
Why do you need a mushroom?
They taste like mushrooms.
Why would you eat T--.
He's a great guy.
Stuck?
Do you have building gloves?
Mine. MINE!
Oof.
Oh my god, I didn't realize this was here.
Hello. Hello there.
Seriously there's a thing circling me. It's in the sky.
I don't know what to do now.
I'll just give you the bee-keeper when I get home.
I'll give you the bee-keeper.
You're going to survive this time.
I was about to give you climbing claws, but...
You're ungrateful.
Why do I even have the beaker beard?
I have no idea.
I have switched out my shield.
You did that on purpose.
I'm already wearing my climbing claws.
I have a gift for you.
The fact that you have to stay there for the rest of the day.
I have an over-powered pickaxe, and I can get you out.
Follow meeeee!
Take my cloud in a bottle.
Take it.
But most of all just be careful with it.
It's an ancient creature.
It's actually alive.
Look at us.
Two slimes making our way across the desert.
Oh my god.
What the freak was that?
It just respawned and scared the life out of me.
Maybe you could be one with ninja.
Do you have a bow?
Okay. We're bachelors, baby.
We'll make it through.
Never.
Oh my god.
Is this it?
This is the perfect place for you.
Come with me.
July 11, 2020
H-- has a nightmare and cries out in the middle of the night. He's usually a pretty sound sleeper. I can't remember this happening in a long time, since he was a little boy. He wants to explain what happened in the dream. He is half sleeping, so I try and soothe him with old tricks, but they don't work on him anymore. He pushes my hands away.
I was playing Minecraft and I was on a raid.
I stopped playing and I stood up, and a jewel fell out of my belly button and rolled away somewhere.
I didn't know what the jewel was, but I knew that if I didn't find it and put it back, I would die.
It had rolled underneath something.
I got down and I was crawling around.
I tried and tried to find it, but I couldn't find it.
And I knew that I was going to die without it and I was so scared.
A week later, I ask him about the dream again. I say: what do you think it was about?
H-- says: I don't know.
Do you think it was about change?
Wait -- what do you mean?
Like, do you think it was about all this change that's happening to you? Your body is changing. You're going to high school. Do you think that's it?
No, I don't think so.
Do you think it's about the virus?
No.
Do you think it's about Steven Universe?
No, Mama.
Ok, well does it still frighten you?
His eyes well up a bit. H-- has great sad faces. Some people have good happy faces. When they smile or laugh, that's when their faces come alive. For H--, it is his sad faces that do it — the edges of his mouth spread downwards. His lips quiver. His eyebrows stitch together and pull down right in the middle. When H-- is sad, it's a bit hard to bear because you get all of him.
What colour was the jewel?
It was pink.
What do you think that means?
I don't know.
Do you think it was your heart?
Maybe.
Your heart fell out of your belly button?
He thinks for a second. Slowly his lips relax and the line of his mouth flattens out.
November 28, 2020
Once upon a time there lived a half god, half human boy. He lived in a house on top of a hill that was not too far from the ocean. You couldn't see the ocean from his house mind you, but you could always sense it was there. (There was often a thick sea-mist, and in the early mornings, birds would circle up above.)
The boy lived his life mostly as a human. Besides his family, no one else knew that he was a half god, and how he came to be a half god was never fully explained. Something about a piece of fruit and a pine tree. And to be honest, his powers were pretty subtle, so that he could easily pass as a full-human child. He had a healing touch, but really this just manifested in feeling kinda nice after he gave you a hug, or kissed you on the cheek. There were whispers that he could bring small creatures back to life by touching them, but this was never verified. He also had the gift of song and storytelling, but he was very shy of singing, so he poured his imagination into writing grand adventures, which everyone enjoyed hearing very much.
As he grew up, his body and his mind wanted to forget his godliness, but his heart wouldn't allow it. Strange things happened:
One day while out for dim sum with his grandparents, he placed his hands on the glass of the tank where they kept the soon-to-be-eaten lingcod. The restaurant came to a hush as a frenzy erupted, the fish nearly exploding from the tank.
He entered a writing contest in high school and took first place. On the day he read the story out to the entire school assembly, an irregularly long pause occurred just after he finished. It lasted about 3 minutes, before the sound of encouraging murmurs and applause cut through the thick quiet.
On a snowy evening, his mother came in from the cold, chilled right to the bone. Her teeth were chattering away. He placed both his hands on her cheeks and said there, there. She was instantly warmed.
The household cat was lethargic and wouldn't eat for a couple of days. He filled a cup with water, keeping his finger in the stream as it filled. Although we think this was to test the temperature more than anything else, Momo was feeling better within the hour.
He painted a picture which was said to make people so happy that they were forced to hold their chests in tightly.
With such powers it became clear to the boy and his family that he was not meant to stay at home for long. So, when the time came, he packed up a few things, kissed his mother and father goodbye (which made them feel really good), and went off to find his place in the world, and to bring magic about to those who may have needed it.
One day while on a weekly trip to the bank, his mother saw something in the bookshop window that immediately caught her eye. It was a collection of short stories, called The Boy Who Spoke to Fish. Although she did not recognize the author's name, the first two initials, H and F, were a clear indication to her that this was the fine work of her son. She purchased a copy and brought it home. With pride, it sits to this day at the very top of the bookshelf.
