A confession to my son
When you were born, I lay recovering from a simple delivery that had morphed into a surgery.
Relief was all I I felt for those first few moments. Then, more clearly, a vision flared.
You, my son-I now understood-would bring me the greatest joy and the deepest sorrow.
You, a tiny swaddled life. An extraterrestrial with the power to enchant me.
Tears like rivulets sought the tunnels of my ears. My heart scrabbled for a balance between elation and fear…
It struggles still, this aging heart of mine. The few threads of wisdom I have spun could scarcely weave a fitted cap.
But the connection between us holds strong, whatever comes. The twisted cord that even death will not fully sever.