Everything that came before you was just a dream. Or did the dream start when you were born? If someone had asked me, before I had you I would have said, ‘I am full. It’s a full life and I am fulfilled.’ I remember those early days in Bangkok writing, What am I doing here trying to have these new experiences? I have already had all the experiences. I should just go home. Ha. I was thirty-three. What did I know. I hadn’t met your father yet. Or Buddha. I hadn’t woken alone in my tiny hut surrounded by mist and mountains, desiring nothing. Still, these days I catch myself inhaling, These are the best days of my life, my chin resting atop your head watching gulls over Professor’s Lake. These days I catch myself exhaling, There is no greater moment than this, as I race alongside you on the path from the park to our home every evening wondering if I have ever been as full as I feel in that moment. I catch myself holding you closer, as you climb onto my lap to eat dinner. I catch myself whispering, Thank you. I will hold on to this moment. There is a knowing that I feel, that these years belong to us, to me and you, a mother and her son. Everything that came before you was just a dream, perhaps, and everything after my dream come true.
mama musings 