I’m addicted to my son’s safety.
I think it’s possible that I’m constantly
thinking about his health and safety
because of my own childhood trauma-
of which he does not have.
Maybe it’s time I let images
of him laughing and running,
with his gleaming eyes and bouncing hair,
flood my thoughts. My trauma is not his.
I need to remember this and to be
better about it. I have such a deep
connection, and love for my son, that I can’t
fathom how any parent or guardian
couldn’t. And there I go, not being
better about it. Back to him running,
and laughing, and being loved.
‘I decided that I would write one story about each thing that I knew about.’ -Ernest Hemingway, A Moveable Feast.
I sit with strong coffee and read his words. His words are so well used they live within me directly after having met them. I once wrote ‘You can’t rewrite Hemingway’ and feel this to be severely true and that no one person should even try. However, if one sits and writes about what they know and their voice is their own and is strong they’ve done it. Each experience is unique. A trip to get milk, written well, can be the best story to write and to read. And If I take Hemingway’s advice I’ll have enough to write about for the entirety of my life. In fact, I’ll not be able to finish.
Have a good day. I hope there will be wine and laughter. I hope you smile and are smiled upon. I hope we all do not take for granted today.