It feels like an insurmountable distance. I picture him daily, doing things, and wonder how he's been. For a parent, to not see your child is an emotional solitude words can't properly describe.
I wonder if his misses me. I replay the phone conversations in my mind, feeling they are few and far between. I hope that he knows I love him. I hope he knows how I want to see him soon. I wish I could shrink myself in miniature, and hitch a ride on the next good breeze, arriving at his pillow. Just to let him know how much I care.
Granted, for the most part, I am certain that my son love's me very much. That he knows I love him with every ounce of me, and would be there if I could. But there's that inkling of doubt, perhaps growing from too many seconds where I can't lift him in my arms. Too many pivotal moments in his nearly three year old existence that I have been forced to guess about. The last time I saw him, it was mid summer. I fear winter will be brimming before I see him again. I hope the ache isn't unbearable. I hope he can understand.
This is Solace, my son. He is truly the love of my life, and it pains me that I can't be with him. I hope my physical absence doesn't rob him of the peace his name entails.
Marcus Jamison, the Rare Poet
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