Just a bit for now

As dinner crackles on the stove (I’m prone to forgetting about it until the burning smell reaches my  nose as I write), my son sits next to me gazing at a new Clone Wars episode on the laptop. A soft white knitted blanket is draped over only his knees; his small but rapidly growing feet are exposed and he twirls his toes in a rhythm heard by  him alone. He holds his head in his hands, his hair is blonde, unruly, wavy. He is beyond beautiful, exasperating. Every day I pray that I’m doing right by him, that he’ll have very little to complain to his future wife or husband about, that his childhood memories are filled with the same sort of magic, charm, wonderment, and peace that I was lucky enough to have.


"... all my lovers were there with me, all my past and futures."

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