My Son....

What I almost missed was the glimpse of you pushing your little brother on the swing without my wondering how he might feel if you did or did not push him.

What I nearly didn't see was the way you filled your water glass with one hand, finding a way to stabilize the glass without the use of your casted arm.

What I barely heard was your description of how the jaws of the spider extend from its mouth as it eats its prey, how the pair of spiders working in tandem is very unusual, how they must be -- for the moment -- mates.

What I cringed and almost turned away from was the fly you almost killed in the catching, carried around for an hour deliberating whether he should go back to the wild in such a condition, and finally set free in as safe a place as you could imagine, saying over and over how much you loved that fly, how much you wished the rest of us did, too.

When I did see you, hear you, on the outer edges of grocery lists, dishes to be washed, and nettles on the dryer, I turned to you fully. How I long to hold this imprint of you in my heart, in my mind: your many skills, your visions, your capacities I almost did not acknowledge... and what of the others that have slipped me completely?

Your shoes are still in the middle of the living room floor.

The toothpaste is uncapped.

The rage in your eyes as you blamed me for bumping you with the door hangs like an echo in my sometimes worried mind.

May I find the grace to turn your way and witness your unfolding into light. May I open into light the darker reaches of my heart to make space for all I am honored to hold of your darkness as well, my son. I only hold myself and All in this embrace.

So much love.