I know you're in there. I can feel you moving. You take up space in a world that I have made MINE. Yeah, I know. I can be just a little possessive.
I have never been much of a contact person. I'm not a big hugger and I hate strangers touching me. I've never met you, but I worry when you don't kick me in the gut enough.
I don't focus well and I'm not very social (particularly this time of year). But I think of you dozens of times an hour. And when I sing, I wonder if you like the song. When I read, I wonder if you want to hear it.
I hear so much about how a single mother cannot possibly fulfill the roles needed by a son, but I am growing awfully particular about the men in my life, or rather in yours. I would rather try to fulfill those roles then subject you to someone I'm not sure is worthy.
Then I spend hours wondering if you will be permenantly damaged. Is anything better then nothing? I have never believed that, but doubt is creeping in.
How can I possibly give you what you need? I don't see how. If I won the lottery, married the perfect man, stayed home and baked cookies with you... I don't see how.
And over and over I am burdened with the thought: all people are devine from birth. Can I help you keep your divinity?
Are we not all aspects of god? But can I do the right thing often enough?
Or maybe (as you kick me again) I just have to love you enough. And tears come to my eyes, as they always do, when I think of loving you.
I have never met your eyes, touched your cheek, kissed your head or held your hands. But I have never loved anyone else, next to you.
Check out my radio blog, Pagan Musings, and my writing (as Selina Wolfcat & Sarah Buhrman).
I'm a head-covering witchy mama to DS ('06) and DD ('10) with DH, Stormie, a Heathen breadwinning daddy.