Estabrook

We walked the dogs across the school yard yesterday, heading for the conservation land on the other side. Abby puffing up the hill, Tess running back and forth, trying to get me to throw her tennis ball. It was a beautiful evening - tall thunderclouds with their tops lit by the setting sun, a bit humid still, but cooler than after the thunderstorms earlier in the day.

Estabrook is like a path of memories. Mrs. Hopkins' kindergarten classroom on the corner, the one Nicholas used to be terrified to go into. We used to go in the side door, and get as far as the coat rack, then Nick's courage would give out and we would sit on the boot bench outside the classroom. Sometimes as we got close to class time, Mrs. Hopkins would look out and say hello to Nick, cheerfully (or terrifyingly, I suppose). Other times we would work our way into the room, maybe get as far as the reading circle or the play house.

From a long perspective, I know now that Nick was completely used to having Alex with him. Alex, it seemed (to him), always knew what to do, was never frightened, was bigger, would always protect Nick. Going places with Alex was not scary. Nick worried - nameless terrors that seemed to have started at Eliot-Pearson, with the equally sweet (and inexplicably terrifying) Carol Henrichs. Maybe it wasn't so much that school was scary, but I guess the idea of spending the day there, by oneself, was a bit much.

There were so many happy days. Bringing Abby to school for show and tell when she was about 9 weeks old (?), charting "a puppy's progress" for science fair, helping to build the play structure and later the outdoor amphitheater (with Len Morse-Fortier), Ms. Donahue (who also had Alex), art classes with Mrs. Shurtleff, Nick's introduction to music - recorder, then 'cello (bass would come later, at Diamond), Mr. Horton (Nick never did get himself sent to his office), Mr. Banks' gym classes. The wild fringe of the playground, home to many warrior camps, forts, and so on, and the playing fields - Nick's flirtation with soccer, mostly - baseball was mostly at Fiske and in town. Bad days too - breaking his foot running across the breezeway in Cub Scouts, roofing important balls and rockets. But on the whole, in my memory of it, Estabrook for NIck was love.

to be continued...