The Wup Defined
Since Tin first learned how to speak, he has called some things the “wup” – and generally this is when we are on the I-10 headed to Metairie. I’ve come to define wup as the guardrails, the sound wall barriers, and the big ass pump that is right before the cemetery, installed post-2005 Federal Flood.
Day before yesterday, we passed the pump and he pointed and said, “The wup.”
The wup is mysterious but lives on that freeway and perhaps it is that mega pump installed here to save our city. Perhaps the wup means nothing more than “that thing that has no name” – it’s probably best not to decode everything a four year old says or does such as these mysteries:
Tin walks into the Botanica on Broad with me. I’m there to get candles, one for positive energy, one to open my road ahead. He picks up a candle and starts carrying it through the store. It’s the Angel of Death. Did you have to pick that one up, I think to myself. Then I try in a flash to see if there is any meaning to his random choice and decide to leave it alone. It’s random, much in the same way the drive-by anger or fear of others will rub up against you in your daily life. Don’t stop and give it meaning. Let it go.
Tin says to me that his daddy came to pick him up to take him home. Again, I have to say do not give this meaning other than a statement, possibly overheard from one of his friends.
Tin says I don’t want to kiss you, I don’t want to hug you. Go away. Here I sing to him, “Why do I always have to steal my kisses from you?”