He was curled up in my lap, back when he used to fit. An image that is difficult to bring forward as he now stands over 6foot. But yes, there was a time he fit snugly, like a perfect puzzle piece.
The afternoon was a particularly lazy one. No place to be, no plans made. So we sat, we thought, and we chatted, fitting together as we should. Mother and young son. Oh I guess it was probably for just 15 minutes of so, but in a mother’s memory it becomes hours. Hours of sitting, of being.
It was just the two of us back then, but only I knew his world would one day change. At 4 he didn’t know about change, at 4 this world was the only world. This lap of mine belonged to him and only him. My love- all his.
He shifted his weight, legs straddled either side, so he could see my face, feel my tummy.
“In here?” he questioned in a doubtful voice
“Yes” I answered, reassuring him of his new sibling’s presence, between us.
“What will it look like?” We had both wondered together.
“Oh I think a little bit of you, and a little bit of me”, we agreed.
At this he studied my face closely. He came right up to me, his breath tickling my nose.
“Well. I hope it has your eyes,” he finally said with certainty. We are now only inches apart.
“Why” I ask.
“Because I can see myself.”