I wrote in my journal…
I write this as my sweet baby sleeps in his car seat next to my chair. You’re not supposed to leave them sleeping in the seat. I understand the dangers but I believe the true danger is forgetfulness. Sometimes, I fear I’ll forget him. That my mind will reboot to the life I had before him.
As I drive around town with him in the car, when he’s silent and still, I feel a rush of panic. Did I forget him? I turn around to see his car seat and little toes sticking out. All is well. And I can breathe again.
I can see him now. His body fills up with air and relaxes with each exhale. I watch his bottom lip pulsing with the memory of my breast. He’s safe here, as I sit on this chair with a pencil and paper knowing I will soon take him out to hold him.
For now, I hold this pencil. And this pencil holds me. I find comfort here. It is something I need. To hold and be held safely in the pages of a book I’ve written.
It’s funny how I still feel safe here, after all these years. After the numerous offenders broke in to read my words, to discover some hidden truth. I am safe here because I am no longer hiding. I no longer wish to be hidden. So, come on in and feel my blanket of words. They are here to warm you as well.
This is how I want to be – inviting. I am not something that needs to be ripped open or sealed off from the rest of the world.
I invite you to hear me and be with me. I see the gift that you are. You bring along treasures of your own. Together we are rich with stories. The tales of our lives, it’s what connects us. Experiences are meant to be shared and spoken to remember our humanity.
The danger is when we forget. When we’re too busy to remember the sleeping child and all of the stories they have to live and tell.
Don’t forget them.