Diaries Magazine

Between Worlds

By Owlandtwine
Between Worlds
A dream, anxiety, and the train's whistle woke me in the middle of the night. I looked around the room bathed in moonlight. I felt sweaty, anxious. I had been dreaming of Theo and Sully. The baby Theo that wore an Obama for President onesie and a helmet. The Sully that had long, silky, blonde curls and toddled around in a Grateful Dead tee. That tee. 2 T. And the Beatles All You Need is Love shirt, soft and red. I dreamt of that, too.
This happens occasionally. These clear visions of them when they smelled like apricots and honey. When I can still palpate every chubby fold, run my fingers over every soft crease, see their smiles and hear their screams. Remember that? All those nights of feeling tissue paper thin - the soul version of me that floated between rooms sssshhhiing bad dreams and smoothing damp foreheads while the human form of me remained asleep. I am absolutely certain now that women live between the worlds, especially when mothering. Because I was just between those veils again last night, only more solid now, less papery.
The train whistle, still. Sweaty. Heart beating fast. They are fast asleep, no need to worry. And I am not worried. I am sad. Sweaty. Why does it all have to go by in a flash? Theo will be ten next month. He's already on the 44 days until my birthday countdown. His birthday wish list sits next to my espresso machine. Ten? I miss the version of him in that Obama onesie so deeply that I... well, everything swells into heartache when I linger there. But this version of him now - he's amazing. He has such a thinking brain and inquisitive heart. He's a joy to have conversation with. He creates the best playlists on Spotify and wants solar panels to power his portable speaker so that he can ride around with it on his bike this summer. Sullivan has like no top teeth right now and I swear on my life, it's the cutest damn thing I've ever seen. I stare at the hills and crevices of his gummy pink mouth these days, solidifying every bit of it to my mama-DNA, as I do each and every thing about my boys that makes me feel gratitude and happiness unlike anything else.
Time is important. 
Moonlit glimpses into all that is.

Ethereal existence.
I am memorizing my boys. I am learning motherhood by heart. I want to remember it all.

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