mexican orphans & playing house

I was sitting in Prospect Park the other afternoon, stretched out on a patch of grass and thinking. There was nothing important being mused upon in my head, just random thoughts that floated past like the clouds in the sky above. Life, getting older, what to eat for dinner, bills to pay, school, books I need to write ...

A pair of little girls broke into the middle of these thoughts. They were standing near my head, talking in the loud and self important way that only children can pull off.

"Let's play house, okay?" one of the girls was saying. "You're the daddy and I'm the mommy."

This comment made me smile. It brought to mind memories of playing house when I was younger. I was never the daddy, and hardly ever the mommy -- I usually got stuck being the little sister or baby. I actually enjoyed these lesser roles, because that way I got more attention paid to me by everyone else. Babies and sisters need attention from pretend mommies and daddies, after all.

"Okay, I'm the daddy and you're the mommy." This, coming from the other little girl.

"And we're rescuing faeries."

"Yeah, we're going to rescue fairies. We're orphans who save faeries."

A happy squeal errupted near my left ear. I heard feet trample around in a running pattern as I looked up into the blue sky above. I hadn't quite managed to flip myself over enough to get a good look at the two girls playing, but I knew plenty from listening to them. Under the age of eight, probably dolled out in the color pink, and fans of stories about homeless and impoverished little children their own age who get adopted by magical aunties or grandmothers. That was pretty much me at that age.

The two girls ran about rescuing the faeries of the world for a good four or five minutes. I heard their dialogue the entire time, trilling voices weaving stories about a duo of kids who save magical creatures. The orphan theme made me smile. I had always been a fan of being an orphan in games, as well. I never had any idea why, except that it seemed appealing to be alone in the world but able to stand up to it anyway.

When I finally mustered the energy to turn over onto my stomach, I got a good look at the two girls. They were kneeling in the grass, pulling up clumps of daffodils and speaking in quick, light voices. The two were very somber in expression, taking their job of playing very seriously.

"We're helping a girl from Mexico run away from her evil stepmother."

The taller of the two girls, a fair skinned brunette, informed her smaller colleague of this new twist in plans. "She has a really mean stepmother who isn't nice to her and she has to run away. She can't go back to Mexico."

"Okay, we have to figure out her escape route." This, coming from the little blonde member of the duo.

"Yeah, she can't go back to Mexico or her stepmother will hurt her. Her stepmother is in Mexico, so we have to help her cross the border safely."

Well, this was interesting. I didn't even have a concept of Mexico at that age. My town was home, and everything else was just kind of nebulous. I'd done extensive traveling even at that young of an age, but the idea of Other Countries didn't really exist yet, let alone a concept of America or the United States.

Listening to the two girls brought up many memories for me. It was poignant, because it made me realize how long ago I'd stopped playing those sort of games. I'm not even sure I'd know how anymore. I'd wonder about bills getting paid and how daddy and mommy would work to support their babies and sisters. I'd feel silly prancing around a house made of twigs and leaves instead of bricks and plaster. I'd wonder if other people were staring at me for trying to be a little kid.

I was getting older, no question about it. This game drove it home for me. I was getting older and there was nothing I could do about it. It was a sad moment. I'd traded in playing house for wondering if I'd ever be able to afford a real home.

Then there was the whole issue of Mexico being tossed into the play acting I witnessed. It seemed an odd thing to toss into a story. Immigration issues weren't such a current event in my day. While there were tensions over it, illegal immigration hadn't yet errupted as a major political issue. Had things changed so much that little girls now bring international affairs into playing house?

"I'm tired."

"Yeah, me too. Let's go see Emmie."

"Yeah, okay. We can play house later."

The two little girls ran off, leaving me alone again with my thoughts. I flipped myself onto my back, and stared at the sky. The clouds were still floating past, the day was still sunny, and the same old questions came bouncing back into my head. What to eat for dinner, bills to pay, school, books I need to write ...

but this time, every few minutes, two new thoughts came sneaking back in:

1) When did I get too old to play house with my friends?

and

2) Why Mexico?