Sully woke me in the night. A gentle tap tap tap on the sliver of my head that wasn't hidden beneath the covers. I heard his feet bound lightly down the hallway before he even reached me, a mother's sixth sense. He climbed up and slid right into the curve of my belly, dug his icy toes into my legs. Right there in the middle of the night I felt all at once completely maternal and lovely, and hugely in love. Once, before I had a little one, I had a dream about having a child. I could see myself only from behind walking through a verdant park canopied by exquisite ancient trees hand in hand with a little one with short hair. That was the only vision of myself as a mother I ever had. A dream that became a prodigious prayer answered.
I was so mad at Theo yesterday. What happened doesn't even matter now but in the moment I spoke my words to him with a venomous hiss. Sometimes parenting boys shakes me to the core. I don't know if they hear me. Even worse is not knowing if they even care. This brings me to my knees. Last night, after the fact, I curled up with him in my arms. As gently as a mama does I pushed his hair back and into his ear I whispered, "You are a lovely, wonderful boy and I love you so much." That is all that matters.
Just write.
