3 am is not an ideal time for blogging. And yet, I know sleep will not claim me until this:
My world shook. Hard. I dreaded, expected, anticipated, mourned over this moment. The moment that shook me beyond words. I played over and over in my head; I have for over a year, how I would react. Cool, calm. A punch. But, the overwhelming get the fuck out did not occur to me. I felt blind, tunnel vision. Physical response so severe my friends had to hold on to me and tell me to breathe. I, oh, I have no words for how grateful I am for those two lovely ladies. Who broke all the rules, bummed me a cigarette, and turned my night back around.
I, well, I cried harder tears, doubled over in the street, than I have in over that same year. I cried for things I couldn't word, things I can't understand, and mostly? Maybe? To let the fucking shit go.
I don't feel like saying anything to him anymore. I cried hard and deep until the tears dried up. I spun, and laughed, and somewhere in the haze of smoke and indiscriminate eyes, I let go.
I, head held high, came back. Fearless. With a smile and did not ignore, but simply was done caring.
Tonight hurt in a way that is impossible to describe, and yet, cleansed me deeply.
I hold my sweet sleeping baby boy and realize that no part of him is anything but me, biology be damned.
And?
Life does get better. There is some quiet hope in the dim. If I close my eyes and smile wide, I don't notice the lights go up.
Tonight, I think I came back.
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