FICLET FRIDAY THE TWENTY-SEVENTH: STILLXMYXHEART
heritage (Eli, Miriam), G
"Mama, why do I have a weird name?"
Miriam turns to look at her son where he sits at the kitchen table, eating his after school snack, and he stares back, his brow furrowed curiously.
"What do you mean, sweetheart?"
"We had a sub today, and she said my whole name when she called roll, and Brian said my name was weird."
Miriam smiles a little as she settles on the stool beside Eli.
"Your name isn't weird; it's just a little different."
"But why?"
Miriam looks at him a moment. At 7, she feels like he's still too young to know all of the details about his ancestry, but maybe now is a good time for him to learn some of it.
"My parents came from Poland -"
"Where's that?"
She laughs softly. "Go get the big atlas from the living room."
Eli slides off his stool and hurries from the room, returning a few minutes later carrying a large book that's almost as big as he is.
Miriam takes it from him and he climbs back onto his stool, reaching for his juice box as she lays the book on the table and flips to a large fold out map of the world.
"This is where we live now," she says, pointing to Connecticut, "and this is where my parents were born," she continues, pointing to Poland.
Eli's eyes widen. "That's a really long way away."
"Mmhmm," Miriam hums. "They were Jewish, and there was a very bad man who didn't like Jewish people, and a lot of terrible things happened to my parents and a lot of other people because of it." She takes a breath, thinking about all of the stories her parents told her over the years.
"After it was over, they came to America, and a few years after that, I was born. They used to tell your uncle and me all about what they went through, and what their families were like, and when Daddy and I were talking about what we were going to name you, I wanted your name to reflect your heritage."
She stands to grab the notepad from beside the refrigerator, and resumes her seat, carefully writing out Eli's name under his watchful gaze.
"Your first name is Elias, from Eliasz, which is the Polish form of the name Elijah, a Jewish name from the Bible, and your middle name is Adam, which you got from Daddy."
"How come Daddy gave me his name?"
She smiles. "Because that's what they do in Daddy's family. His middle name is Michael, which was his father's first name, and one day, when you have kids, if you have a son, you can give him your name as his middle name."
"Do I have to?"
Miriam smiles again and shakes her head as she reaches over to gently brush his hair back from his forehead.
"No, sweetheart, you don't have to."
He's quiet for a moment, chewing on the last of his apple slices, and then he looks at her again.
"I like my name, Mama."
Her smile widens and she leans over to press a kiss to the side of his head. "I'm glad."
just like dad (Adam, Eli, Miriam [Adam/Miriam]), G
The corner of Adam's mouth rises a little when he walks into the kitchen and sees Eli at the table, a piece of paper in front of him, and his gaze intense on the bowl of fruit in the middle of the table.
"Hey, kiddo," Adam says as he moves to the refrigerator.
Eli's gaze flicks up. "Hey, Dad."
Adam withdraws two cans of soda and moves to sit next to his son, setting one of the cans in front of Eli.
Eli lays his pencil down, murmuring a quiet thank you as he reaches for the can, and Adam peers curiously at the piece of paper, seeing now that Eli's been drawing the fruit.
"What're you working on?"
"Homework for art class. She told us to draw something around the house."
Adam stares at the drawing a moment longer, admiring the lines and curves. "That's really good, son."
Eli looks up at Adam, his eyebrows raised in surprise. "Yeah?"
Adam smiles a little and nods. "For an eleven-year-old anyway."
Eli snorts and elbows his dad, and Adam grins as he elbows him back.
"No, but really, Eli, you have a very good eye. A good, steady hand."
A faint smile crosses Eli's face as he looks at the drawing again. "There's something weird about it though."
"You just need a little more shadowing. Look."
Adam reaches over to pick up Eli's pencil and pulls the drawing to him, adding a little more shading to show Eli what he means.
"See? It gives more depth. Makes it look more realistic."
Eli nods, his expression clearing a little, and then lifts his gaze to Adam.
"How come you don't draw more? You're so good, Dad. Why didn't you study it in college or something?"
Adam shrugs. "I liked drawing, but it wasn't very practical as an occupation. My dad was a doctor, and he - I wanted to follow in his footsteps. Be just like him. I became a surgeon, though, so it's a little like being an artist. You have to have a good eye, and steady hands."
He reaches for Eli's hand, placing it on his palm. Eli stretches his fingers, trying to align them with his dad's, though his hand is smaller, and Adam smiles.
"Your hands are like mine. You'd make a good surgeon too."
Eli beams under Adam's praise. "I want to be just like you too, Dad."
Adam grins and slides his arm around Eli's skinny shoulders, squeezing him in a half hug. "Be better than me, Eli."
Eli scoffs. "There's nobody better than you."
Adam smiles, grateful that Eli hasn't yet stopped holding him in such high esteem. He likes being his son's hero, and wants it to stay like that for just a little while longer.
When Miriam comes home from the grocery store a little while later, the table is littered with pieces of paper holding drawings by both Adam and Eli, and she laughs.
"My little artists," she murmurs, pressing a kiss to the back of Eli's head.
Adam stands, taking one of the bags from Miriam's arms, and raises an eyebrow down at his wife. "I don't think you can call me little."
"Me neither," Eli declares, and Miriam laughs again.
"Okay, my big artists."
Adam grins and bends to kiss her, and she reaches to ruffle Eli's hair, telling him to put the drawings away so they can make dinner.