Tuesday, May 20, 2008
It must be said of me that I don't respond well when my hand is forced. Some choices in my life of late have been foisted upon me. And while many of my friends and family, the people whom I love and whom I know love me back, keep telling me that these changes are okay, that they may even be for the best, I just don't know this to be true.
And this feeling in my heart leads me straight to a stream of personal doubt. And we're not talking some tiny little droplets of doubt; we're talking a cascade. There are so many overwhelming doubts that I come to doubt everything that I think I know; everything that I think I believe; and everything that I think I want.
And then I come into the living room and see his face. In his green hoodie; practicing what he calls his "thoughtful look" and I know this one very important thing: I love him so much that sometimes it feels as if he holds my heart in his hands. And he is so lovely and so wonderful that even after eight years I can hardly believe the incredible luck that makes him mine to love. But he is. He's my boy and I am his mama. At least I know that.