<BGSOUND SRC="Eboy.mid" LOOP="INFINITE"> EricBoy
Written for my son when he was a toddler.
Copyright 1993 by Madeline I. Johnson

THE SELF DOUBTS


At first, I used to hear my son crying, wishing his father would come home. And, though I would reach out to comfort him, he did not want my sympathy. He would tell me he remembered his father's hand wiping away his tears when he was sad. He remembered sitting on his father's lap at the computer, watching him play "Xwing." He remembered his father tickling his belly and wrestling with him on the carpet. He made calls, leaving messages on his father's answering machine. But, he never received a call back. He wrote letters and sent them via email to his father. I remember how he used to run to the computer just to check his mail, wondering if his father might have written to him. And, then, I would see him slump down and move away slowly as another day of disappointment became etched into his spirit. As the days evolve into months, he discards his attempts at reaching out to his father. And, he tells me, "My Dad doesn't love me."

Now, I have seen my son's sadness turn into anger. "My dad is not my dad anymore," I hear him say. I tell him, "I know you are angry, but remember I love you. I know your dad loves you, too. He is just going through a difficult time in his life right now." Uncertain of his feelings, my son lashes out at me and at his baby brother. I look into his eyes, remembering that special sparkle that used to radiate from them, strong and steady. But, the hardships and confusion have hidden away that innocence. The eyes of the betrayed look to me for answers--perhaps he is too young to understand, but old enough to know that there is a great emptiness in this house and in his heart. I look back at him, hoping he looks past any of the sadness or worry that are in my eyes, to see the great love I have for him.

And, from the pit of my belly, the unbearable heartbreak struggles for escape. But, I push it down again, deep inside me, hoping I will someday soon have the time to pay attention to it and comfort it. I find that nearly all the energy and time I can gather together are being committed to guiding my children forward. I want to move enough into the future to see all this as a thing of our past. But, I shake with weakness, as though I will just collapse any minute from the stress. How long can my body hold out? But, I think, there is so much more to take care of. Everything is broken down or wearing out here. How will I be able to Nurture AND Provide for my children while I deal with the confusion of what I should do? My children are so young. I do not want to leave them with anyone. Where should I start? How will I make ends meet? Right now, something has to be done.

But, there is only one thing clear to me--this challenge is already proving to be a difficult one.



Created: Tuesday, May 13, 1997 - 4:28:33 PM
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