Dear Mr. Jesus,
“Unfortunately I can’t have any children, but I have raised and had several in my life. That ship has sailed so I just make the best of the little ones in my life now.”
You have grasped the solution I still struggle to accept. I don’t struggle often; with-child isn’t a title I will wear. Every now and again, my child slides its hands around my neck and squeezes until a lump forms, and then immediately am alone to recover in gasps, wheezes and tears.
Unlike you, children are a part of my life no longer. The children who were aren’t children anymore.
Your grace and acceptance humble me.
©2013 Sandra Davidson
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You are bound and determined to make this grown male cry. Not that it’s anything new to me [my ex-wife affectionately called me a crybaby because I was comfort with shedding tears], but you always say the little things that press that deep, deep, button in me. I am under the firm assumption that we must count our blessing where and when we find them, the only problem though recognizing a blessing in real time. I was lucky enough to know that baby growing inside his mother was a blessing. I counted him as such.
You have had children in your life so you know that joy and can even recall it strongly enough to where it manifest itself. You have a blessing to count. In reality children never really leave us; even when they are grown. They leave a dimple on our hearts that change our hearts forever. And please don’t think me to graceful with my acceptance of being biologically childless. I have been racked with hurt and confusion as to why I was chosen to not procreate. It has affected how I feel as a male and I used to consider myself a lesser because of inability to produce a mini me. I still question it, but at the end of the day I accept it only because I have no choice.
I wanna thank you once more for your words and striking a cord that makes me think. You are a talented writer and “expressor” of feelings, I am honored and humbled by you. Again, thank you.