My baby died one month before he was to be born. My baby's eyes never saw, his feet never traveled, his voice was never heard. Here is my attempt to take him through the world with me. My baby boy's name is Frost, he lives in my heart. These are my letters to Frost.
Blood
Monday, June 7, 2010
Behind the Curtains
I've always wondered what it would be like to be a ghost watching people. I remember pretending to do this at different times in my life. As a child I hid from the girls at my birthday party and waited for them to come looking for me. I watched them call my name from behind a building outside of our house. I waited and watched, I believed that they couldn't see me, I said words to them that I knew they would not hear. When they came close to my hiding spot I jumped out at them. There was excitement and laughter. This is a memory.
When I was a teenager, I remember watching a boy I liked through a window. He could not see me, he did not know I was there. I watched his gestures and movments. When he looked around his space, I imagined that he was looking for me. I said words to him that I knew he would not hear. I tried to make him believe the words that I whispered. I thought myself a ghost then and I felt that I could be happy just watching forever. This is a memory.
I sometimes find myself watching people I don't know and never will. I wonder if they feel the energy of my attention, or if it just glides past them like an empty breeze. Do they feel my eyes? I say words to them that I know they will not hear. Words that match the moment. If they look up I imagine that it is because of my thoughts. It might be.
When I get a prickle, when I get a feeling, I think about the way a ghost must watch. I turn my feeling into an action. I look around for shadows and lights. I say "hello" to nothing. I smile. I connect with the space. I let a sob escape. I let all of these things happen because just incase it is you watching, you saying words that I will never hear, I want you to know that your visit was not missed. I was there with you, Frost, when you were here with me.
Night, night Frost
Mama loves you.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
I'm a people watcher. I think of you often, and hope you have many encoragments from your sweet boy.
ReplyDelete