i wasn't sad.
one kid is easier to maintain, to manage; even when she is a feral creature. one kid means one pick-up at one school, one extra meal to make, one person to read a book to at night. easy-peasy-lemon-squeezy.
and i'm not missing him, even now. except for the times when i am. and those times hit me like a brick to the head, because they come just after the moment when I FORGET I HAVE ANOTHER CHILD.
i'm serious.
there is a moment that has come to me repeatedly in the past couple of days where i simply forget about him. it's almost as if he was never here, never made, never my boy. his converse on the floor look like my converse, so there's no confusion there. he doesn't leave his shit around the house like his sister, so there is no evidence of him. the pictures on the wall could just be a kid we used to know, or maybe a cousin in massachusetts.
this is the moment, the second that lasts enough for an inhale and then just as quickly escapes me when i jump back on the reality-train and feel like the worst parent in the world when i remember him, remember. my. son.
and it all floods back to me in a wash of hastened heartbeat and rescuing relief:
my kid! my firstborn! my boy!
he called my breasts "big ma and bop" for the last year that he nursed.
he used to wear pajamas to school with a superhero cape for good measure.
he knew every snake on the planet.
he made friends with everyone.
he swung a bat with such grace and ease that it made his father cry.
he loved his baby sister with ferocity and protectiveness. he was the first to make her laugh.
and now:
he lays on the floor with the dogs; they stare at each other with respect and understanding.
he rereads "calvin and hobbes" every couple of months.
he listens to coldplay and says, "have you heard this song?" like it's brand new.
he climbs up on the roof and sings a chorus from a lumineers' song, and the neighbors next door join in.
he still hugs me, still wants me near. still loves me, i'm pretty sure of it.
he says every night, as he has since he could talk, "goodnight, sleep well, come and check on me soon." actually he says, "come and check on us soon", because he always, always remembers his sister.
and now, here i am, after forgetting for the slice of a heartbeat, remembering my Milo; the boy who turned me into a mother and makes me rejoice for the future of this planet, because all saints be praised,
he is actually on it.
