I Want to Believe
I want to believe–that with enough love and laughter, books and reading, friends and family, children grow up to be happy
I want to believe–the stage is set early for dreams to come true: Skies dazzle in brilliant blue, clouds drift idly, stretches of pastures and woodlands lend serenity
I want to believe-all families stick together–even when dads leave, even when the crazy-making stories start
I want to believe–that being a child means becoming a teenager; that becoming a teenager means becoming a young adult; that becoming a young adult means launching a world of one’s own–ad infinitum to infinity and beyond
I remember–Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and laughing at “Who’s Line is it Anyway?”
I remember–Power Rangers. Your blue and white, diamond-checkered costume, replete with Power Ranger sword, jumping from the top stair and my catching you just in time
I remember–Froggie and Small Pig, Henry and Mudge, the Rugrats and Charlie Brown, school classroom parties with Halloween costumes and all that candy (chocolate always was your favorite)
I remember–Sitting in the car and crying after I took you to kindergarten for the first time (I had to let go–I still don’t want to let go)
And I Remember
And I Remember–Friday night football games watching you play alto saxophone in marching band
And I Remember–Making 5-layer Mexican Dip from scratch, the food processor whirring with avocados you halved
And I Remember–I remember pepperoni pizzas (times many for all your friends), and new sneakers (Nikes) for puppy dog feet.
And I Remember–I remember academic scholarships and high school graduation robes and the gully in the pit of my stomach when I had to take you to college.
I remember–butterscotch sundaes after band concerts and stage fright at your first piano recital.
I remember– when you told me you hadn’t felt happy in at least 7 years. You were only 18.
I Want to Believe
I want to believe–that pain in childhood can be eased and healed with love
I want to believe–that the Easter Bunny always delivers chocolate cream eggs filled with peanut butter and chocolate
I want to believe–that what’s broken in teenagers can be fixed by growing up.
If I Could Have
If I could have stopped the trajectory Dylan was on, would my life be different now? I’d certainly like to think so. Such a beautiful start, forever ruptured by where, in reaching for stars, my son fell from sky.
And now? Now it is I who hurl forward on this trajectory set in motion 9 years, 4 months, and 3 days ago. Eclipsed. Lacking permanence of sun. Shadows cast fallen amidst sliver of sky.
And in a world spinning madly, I cling to this one still, small hope–that I will see you again.
When I Get to See You Again
My Forever Son, “Once Upon a Blue-Sky Moon”