This piece is written for The Gallery, hosted by Tara at Sticky Fingers.
The last three years have been a roller-coaster and have catapulted me, almost on a daily basis, between some of the highest highs and lowest lows of my life. I know that I never before experienced quite such an intensity of ‘being’ that I have felt since giving birth to my son and I know that this is down to him. Or maybe to ‘us’.
I represent to him all that is good and all that is bad combined … and, in phases, exclusively all that is bad. But on each occasion, when he surprises me with a fleeting gesture of love or appreciation, or learns something new, or expresses just that simple but immense enthusiasm for everything around him, something bursts into life inside of me and, yet again, I could explode with a euphoria impossible to put down in words.
I love my son, inexplicably and to the end of …. of all I have and all that I am capable of being.
Being here, with him, his mother, is so much where I want to be, but will I ever be at peace with motherhood? …. I don’t think so;
I’m not good enough at it for that.
Sometimes I can’t say goodbye
Sometimes he won’t say hello
But when he won’t say goodbye
How can I go?
Sometimes I need some time
Sometimes he runs away
But when he doesn’t want me there
How can I stay?
Often it’s me that’s wrong
Often he doesn’t care
But when we catch each other’s breath
I know he knows, I’m there …
for the duration.