I'm watching him sleep and seeing the face of a little boy. He sighes and curls up and looks peaceful and innocent and for a brief moment I want to go grab a corner of the blanket and curl up next to him. But then I look at my hands and remember who I am and who he is and why that wouldn't be all right, (even though we do that sometimes and don't make a big deal of it).
We're all children who wake up and grow up and get our dreams smashed and hearts broken and have find ourselves and our own way. In our innocence and in our agony we scratch at skin and hurt ourselves and each other.
Please believe me, I never meant to hurt you. Every moment that I travel away from the moment before, that moment feels heavier and more horrible to me until I throw it off with a cry and vow to get it right this time.
I walked across the stage one year ago today. It took my whole life to get to those few short steps, and then they were over in an instant and I had a whole new eternity to begin. How far have I come and how much farther can I go today?
I feel the world on my face every morning, taunting and questioning and anxiously waiting for me. Some days I pull my hair into my eyes and whisper to it: "I'm doing the best that I can..."
He opened his eyes suddenly and looked at me. I smiled. His eyes grinned and then closed again. When he rolled over and pulled the blanket up, his toes got uncovered. I reached over and pulled the blanket back down a little, so he won't wake up cold.
If I can't love you completely, maybe I can at least make sure you don't wake up cold.
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