I hug and I'm gentle.
Some days I want more.
And others, less is more.
My mind screams, desperate for peace.
I'm at war within myself.
I'm two people. Trying to shed the old and become the new.
Before bed they love to read, The Night the Scary Beasties Popped Out of my Head, and inside I ask, "Why won't they pop out of my head?"
At Starbucks, I showed August off to the Barista and she rubbed her own burgeoning belly. She's due in the Spring she says and they can't think of a name for their boy.
Before I could stop myself, I say, "What about Bennet?" At the sound of his name tears form and I'm overcome, thankful for the dim lights at the counter.
She loves the name [of course she does] and is going to mention it to her husband. My heart is torn.
I want to say his name every day. It makes me happy and sad. But mostly happy and that feels a little bit like healing.
As I was feeding August upstairs, Ryan burst in the room. "It's 11:11 on 11-11-11," he said. "Let's kiss."
So we did.