Slowly I removed one piece of clothing at a time. First my sweater hit the floor, undershirt, and then pants. They lay there just like myself a crumpled mess needing to be picked back up. I paced over to the tub and let the flow of hot water loose. I dipped one foot in and the next, slowly lowered myself into the water that was a warm hug. Sometimes you just have to strip down to nothing to let the walls fall down.
“Mommy,” his little voice queried. “Yeah Bug?” I inquire as I hold him facing me, his long legs wrapped as tightly as his arms around me. “Why do I have to have A-T?” Thank goodness for rehearsed answers, for I am certain an Oscar is in my future. The questions each like a dagger, “Why do I have A-T? Why doesn’t E have it?” Declarations of injustice followed. “That’s not fair! I don’t want A-T!” Involuntarily tears slid down my cheeks on to his soft curly hair. His innocence is slipping away and awareness is creeping in. Nothing can prepare you for this. Nothing satisfies his need to know why. He is but five years old and discussing genetics and DNA is far out of his understanding. So I pulled him tight, did the best I could, and wished with all I have for a better answer next time.
Thankfully onions needed chopping for dinner and gave credence to my tears. Ten minutes later my husband comes home knowing from my text that I need some moments. So, here I sit in this hot water wishing that I could heal my baby, to soothe his soul, and that I could make everything all better for all of us. I have too much to do to allow such hurt to consume me, but for this stolen half hour I shall let it.
*This was not proofread or spell checked. I have a wounded boy to tend to. Now to pick myself and my clothes back up.