12 o’clock


Rui Boy 2B

12:00 – Christmas Eve, and I’m moving boxes around in the night here in my apartment, trying to get myself ready for the arrival of the last of the holidays without making too much noise and disturbing my neighbors. I thought of people sleeping and anticipating what they might be doing tomorrow. I always imagine – it’s a night when many sleep poorly, anticipation agitating their thoughts, listening through the night for someone rustling the sheets as they turn over, or low creaking from bedsprings down the hall, or next door  – wondering who else is awake, and who is dreaming, what will the morning bring?

I looked up at the clock just now and saw it was midnight. I thought of my childhood, as everyone around me in the surrounding buildings and lamplit rooms above me are probably doing now.  And a window opened… now Santa comes. Is the chimney flue open?  He has to come down, unobstructed. Where do I have a chimney in my cramped one bedroom place on the ground floor?

Who do I tell this to…  moving the boxes around. I’m not wrapping new gifts for Rui, the old ones are still here. The big firetruck is on the dresser in front of the never-used television. It fell off and clattered to the floor two days ago when I walked past. I examined it a moment longer. Would it still be ok to play? Nothing broken; reinsert the little gray plastic motor. It fell out.

His joy, his smile in the morning. His curious method of looking through and considering each car in the box before deciding which one. Holding, replacing. Weighing with his hand. It’s blue. This one’s greenish. The paint scraped off the side of the bumper. Is the loose wheel still on?  Slap it – it spins.

Lauren Berlant wrote, in Cruel Optimism, “it matters how much an instance of sentimental abstraction or emotional saturation costs, what labor fuels the shift from the contrete real to the soundtrack reel, and who’s in control of the meaning of the shift, the pacing of the shift, and the consequences of detaching, even for a moment, from the consensual mirage.” ¹

Outside of consensus here.

Merry Christmas Rui, Daddy’s lost heart.

black cloud 1

1. Lauren Berlant, Cruel Optimism. Duke U.P., 2011. p. 35

About Brian Prager

I am the father of a beloved son who has been retained in Japan by his Japanese mother against my will. My boy has been kept out of contact with me since June, 2010. I am struggling to save him and get justice for us.
This entry was posted in Brian Prager, 誘拐犯, George Washington University Professor Joan S. Meier, George Washington University Professor of Clinical Law, Hague Convention, Japan Child Abduction, Japanese Child Abduction, Machiko Terauchi, Ohnuki Kensuke Child Abductor, Parental abduction, Parental Alienation, Rui Prager, Rui Terauchi, 寺内るい, 寺内真智子 and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to 12 o’clock

  1. michele thomas says:

    Brian, I wish I could answer for Rui.  Conjure him up so he can put his arms around you and wish you a Merry Xmas back.  Just know he is out there missing you.  The love you have saved for him is worth its weight in Christmas gold. Love, Michele

    Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s