Loom

Yesterday, I sat, pained, at the screen. I wanted to write.

But I struggled. Every thought I had, every thing I thought, either started or ended, or at the very least, circled around Oliver.

*

I spent an hour on the phone with a friend. We talked about a dozen subjects not related to Oliver. We talked about her career, her romantic relationship, her family, her home. He didn’t come up until we delegated time for him.

But he was still there. Screaming in the background, laughing at his image in the mirror. And when it came time to turn the conversation onto me, she opened with, “Look at you. Dog pictures and baby pictures. Dogs and babies. You’ve become one of them.

She said it with sincere love, and a side of amusement, but I shit you not when I tell you — that at the very moment these words were coming out of her mouth, I was holding the iPhone up, at an angle, taking pictures of Oliver and Bela on the couch.

Wow. Ironic?          Or did I just need to see a clear picture of who I was?

I desperately don’t want to write about one thing, this one little man, this little being. I don’t want to coat the surface of everything I write with the light and reverence that has come from the experience of having him.

Holy shit did I really just write that sentence!? I don’t want to coat the surface of everything I write with the light and reverence that has come from the experience of having him??? 

I write about all of the things. And I can no longer talk about the trees without thinking about how he gazes at them. I  can no longer talk about my feet, without picturing his, flattened against mine, pushing on the body that made him.

I love doors. Comings and goings. I love division. Put a line down the middle of this, watch the oil separate from the water. When things mix, they look muddy. Different than before. Not as pretty. But they certainly are more complex.

I’m different than before. Oliver is going to peek through my writing for the end of time, because he has changed my eyes. That is not something to hide from the page. It is something to understand. Accept. Celebrate.

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