My Son and the dream

He handed me something from his dream this winter as he rocked his head side to side and opened his eyes. I just smiled at his sleep filled face and thanked him.

It must have been something I needed.

In that cold night he must have known about the hole in my chest.

I want to tell him about hearing a tune and that far away feeling of remembering that it’s one your mother used to sing.

Tell him gently about the wind whipping around the side of the house.

About remembering how good loneliness feels.

The light shining on winter’s fairy seed fluff.

The sharp sting of things growing
Pushing up, changing.

This divorce must be a little bit like what death feels like. It’s a heart opener.

What do you do when the storm of change and bravery passes? What do you do with the hurt that’s left?

I want to reach out from this dream and give it away.