Turn 173 of 233

Point out something interesting in the park. Tell Sina, Samuel and Janet about being called mama

The trail opens past the quarter-mile marker into a clearing that Lena has run through a hundred times and never stopped in. She stops now. Kimo is in the stroller, still humming, his fingers wrapped around the harness strap. The clearing is wide and the wide is the thing that lets the morning light in and the light is the thing that catches the spider web strung between two palmetto trunks at the edge of the path. The web is orb-shaped and the orb is the thing that is perfect and the perfect is the thing Lena has not noticed before because she has been running and the running is the thing that moves you past things. She is not running now.

She wheels the stroller to the palmettos and crouches and the crouching is 680 pounds on wet grass. The web is between the trunks at Kimo's eye level and the eye level is the thing she didn't plan but the thing that is right. The web has dew on it and the dew is the thing that makes each strand visible — tiny beads of water caught in silk that is thinner than anything Lena has built with her hands. Each strand is placed and the placed is the thing that is precise and the precise is the thing Lena recognizes from framing and the framing is the thing that says structure is structure whether it is wood or silk.

Kimo sees it. The seeing is the thing that happens in his face — the stillness, the eyes locking, the tracking of a strand from center to edge. He points at the web and the pointing is the thing he learned two minutes ago when he pointed at Lena and said mama. The pointing is becoming the thing he does when he wants to show what he sees. He doesn't say a word. He hums and the humming is the thing between words and the between is where the word for what he is seeing is building.

"Look at that," Lena says. She doesn't say it for him. She says it because the web is the thing that deserves words and the words are the thing she has. Kimo reaches toward the web and Lena catches his hand and the catching is gentle.

"Don't touch, buddy. Just look."

He looks for thirty seconds and the thirty seconds is a long time for a seven-month-old to look at anything. Then he turns away and the turning is the thing that says the looking is done and the done is the thing he decides. Lena stands and pushes the stroller forward and the forward is the thing that is the run and the run is the thing that continues. The web stays behind her in the clearing and the staying is the thing that webs do.

The run is twenty miles today — not thirty-seven, because Kimo's grass running took time and the time is the thing that matters more than the miles. At the trailhead Lena pulls her phone from the stroller pouch and the pulling is the thing she does with wet fingers and the wet is the grass and the grass is the thing that is on everything. She dials Sina first.

Sina picks up on the second ring and the second ring is the thing that says she is awake and the awake is the thing a runner is at six in the morning.

"He ran on grass," Lena says. "Eleven steps. He fell three times and got up three times. He didn't cry."

Sina is quiet and the quiet is the quiet of a woman who knows what running on a new surface means and the meaning is the thing that is not small.

"That's good," Sina says. "The surface change is hard. The give is different. He's learning to read it."

"That's not the thing, Sina. He pointed at me. He said mama."

The silence on the phone is different from Sina's other silences. The other silences are the thing that holds weight. This silence is the thing that holds something else and the else is the thing Lena can hear but can't name. Sina breathes and the breathing is the thing that fills the silence.

"First person word," Sina says. "First identification. That's the thing, Lena. That's not a noun for a wall. That's a word for a person. That's him knowing who you are."

"I know."

"Aleki said mama first too. Eleven months. Kimo is seven and a half."

The number hangs and the hanging is the thing between them and the between is Aleki and Aleki is the thing that is in the word. Lena doesn't say anything. The not saying is the thing that lets the number be what it is.

"Call your parents," Sina says. "They need to hear this."

Lena hangs up and dials Janet and the dialing is the thing she does with a thumb that is wet and callused. Janet picks up on the first ring and the first ring is the thing that says Janet has been waiting and the waiting is the thing Janet does with her phone in her hand.

"Mom."

"Lena. I was about to call you. How was the run?"

"Twenty miles. Kimo ran on grass. Eleven steps. But that's not — Mom, he pointed at me. He looked at me and pointed and said mama."

Janet makes a sound and the sound is the thing that is not a word and the not-word is the thing that comes before words when the thing you hear is too big for the mouth to shape. The sound is small and high and the high is the thing that breaks and the breaking is the thing Lena hears through the phone.

"He said mama?" Janet's voice is the voice of a woman holding a phone and a list and the list is the thing Janet tracks on her phone and the phone is the thing that has fifty-six words on it and the fifty-six is about to be fifty-seven.

"Fifty-seven. First word directed at a person. He pointed right at my face."

"I'm writing it down. Mama. Word fifty-seven. Seven and a half months." Janet is typing and the typing is the thing Janet does and the doing is the thing that is Janet's way of holding the thing that is too big.

"Does Samuel know?"

"I'm calling him next."

"Call him. He's been asking about the walking. This is — Lena, this is the word. This is the one."

Lena hangs up and the hanging is the thing that is fast because the fast is the thing that gets her to Samuel. She dials and the dialing is the thing she does every week and the every week is the promise and the promise is the thing she keeps. Samuel picks up and the picking up is slower than Janet's and the slower is the thing Samuel does because Samuel does not rush toward things.

"Dad."

"Lena."

"Kimo said mama. He pointed at me and said it. On the trail this morning. He ran on grass first — eleven steps, fell three times, got up on his own. Then he stopped and pointed at me and said mama."

Samuel is quiet and the quiet is the quiet Lena knows. The quiet is the thing that holds the weight of a man who built things with his hands and watched his daughter build things with hers and is now hearing that his grandson said his daughter's name. The quiet is four seconds and the four seconds is the thing that is Samuel's way of placing something where it goes.

"Good," Samuel says. The word is one word and the one word is the thing Samuel gives and the giving is the thing that is more than a sentence.

"That's good, Lena."

"He's getting faster, Dad. The words are coming faster. The running is getting longer. He's seven months old and he ran on grass and fell and got up without crying."

"He's your boy," Samuel says. The saying is two words and the two words are the thing that is the closest Samuel has come to saying the thing he means and the thing he means is that Kimo is Lena and Lena is the thing Samuel is watching and the watching is the thing he does with his eyes because his eyes are the instrument he trusts.

Lena stands at the trailhead with the phone in her hand and Kimo in the stroller and the stroller is on the wet grass. The morning is open and the open is the thing that is the day and the day is Wednesday and Wednesday is Sina's rest day and the rest day is the thing that gave Lena the trail alone with her son. She hangs up and puts the phone in the pouch and the pouch is the thing that holds the phone the way the stroller holds the boy. She pushes the stroller toward the parking lot and the pushing is the thing that is the walk to the truck and the truck is the thing that will take them home and home is the balcony and the balcony is the floor where Kimo will run again.

Kimo is humming in the stroller and the humming is the thing between words and the between is getting shorter. The web in the clearing is behind them and the behind is the thing that stays and the staying is the thing that webs do. The word mama is in Lena's ears and the ears are the thing that carry it and the carrying is the thing that is not going to stop.