God gave us the best chance to course correct. We named him Noah. Our beloved Noah. Then we forgot our blessing. Made a mess of the mess we had already made. I don’t blame you. I don’t blame myself. Who am I without my son anyway? The day he left, my soul shrank and hid inside his miniature traveling bag.
He is still with you. Your chance to course correct. Noah. Please, this time, don’t make any mess. Love him like his father loves him loved him back when there was life still left in my eyes. There was hope of my son sleeping in my arms. There were moments of him glancing gently onto his son’s careful eyes. Eyes of a toddler looking through rooms big as football fields for him to finally lock eyes with his dad. “Papa” he would shout into the galaxies and giggle. That giggle, my oldest star’s sunshine.
…………………………………………………………..
Leave a comment