During a winter that could snap your nipples in half, Master Splinter was having a particularly rough time. My ten year old eyes saw him struggling to move around his home and only I could hear his whimpers at nighttime from my bed. Dad and Mama-April had to work long shifts, and when I got tired of seeing the same four walls of our dingy apartment, I asked to stay with Splinter on various nights. It was surprisingly fun with the elder rat.
miss him. I just needed to get that out of my system.
His sons, my uncles, were never mean or bad to him, but I could tell that they had their own agendas and heartaches. Even a ten year old could see when someone was lonely. Splinter needed my assistance, and I was determined to make him smile each day.
So, Mama-April gave me a wonderful suggestion one day when she was helping me with my math homework. I hated math, the very core of my adolescent aggravation and I hated being married to it for so long. I almost gave birth to its babies. Splinter helped me with math although he wasn't terribly good at it.
X + Y = Z ?
You should have seen his face when I showed him algorithms (I attended an advanced class..). We gave up and baked cookies.
Anyways, Mama-April had a twinkle in her eye when she told me of a gift that lasted all year. I said how so? A fresh piece of paper was whipped out and she asked me to brainstorm different things that I liked about Master Splinter. I scribbled out about five things, hit more steam and rolled out ten, but then I stopped. Then, with a tender hearted congratulations followed by a sneaky grin, she said I had to come up with three hundred and sixty five different things that I liked about him.
Actually, three hundred and sixty six since the following year would leap.
Don't judge me too harshly; I adored Splinter but coming up with three hundred and sixty SIX things was as difficult as break dancing with a math equation. Determination and strength flowed in my veins, however, and all I had to remember was seeing him on harsh winter nights, a sorrowful look painted on that fuzzy face. My heart broke again and it fueled my writing.
January 1st: you always smell good.
He said he imported a specific scent straight from Japan, but I had to keep it secret because he raided Raphael's secret stash for the costs. I felt special!
February 29th (leap): you have great taste in women.
And I was his favorite woman.
March 17th: you keep your nails trimmed.
I'm a woman and look more like a werewolf each day.
April 1st: you're my favorite turtle. No joke.
Actually, it's a tie between him and Uncle Mike, but Splinter was really happy about my project and looked forward to it each day. It was cute.
May 8th: you make a killer beef stew.
And everybody killed each other to always get it.
June 23rd: that one time you kicked a homeless guy in the gut for hitting on Mama-April (before I was born).
Splinter has performed many heroic acts but I remember this one because the guy immediately threw up on Splinter's robe. I didn't want to include that, though.
July 4th: fireworks + you = fun, explosive times
He burned Leonardo one year. Actually two, and in the same spot.
August 7th: you're just too cool for school.
Summer isn't so bad on his bones. I was dancing to some old 80s hits, and Splinter stopped by my door and did the robot. I had to change underwear.
September 21st: you have a beautiful singing voice.
Hands down.
October 19th: when the girls on the soccer team tortured me day after day, you gave me the courage to stand up to them. I wanted to kick them in the face, like Uncles Raph and Don suggested, but you said to wait until after the semester was over and get them in a dark alley.
Do you know how many cool points he scored that day?
November 26th: you hoard snacks for me.
And he guarded them, too.
December 31st: you will always be immortal in my memory. I love you.
.. yeah, we were both being saps that day. Then we baked cookies in the shapes of math equations. Anger management, see?
When Splinter passed a few years later, I asked to read all three hundred and sixty SIX things at his eulogy. I didn't shed one tear because he knew every single one of them, and I couldn't be sad about that.
I don't want to end this lopsided essay on a sad note. My dad asked me to do the same thing for him, but I only came up with one hundred before the rest were just insulting.