Search
  • Sue Skalicky

He's my son


He loves generously. He tells me to be brave when I get frustrated or down. He closes his eyes and sings from his heart about the love of God. He dances. All the time.

I’m humbled by his concern for me. I, too, close my eyes when he sings. I see God. I dance with him to “our” song.

He wants his hair to be straight. He gets sad when other kids point out that he’s different. He doesn’t know where his biological dad is. And neither do I.

I gave him a bad haircut. Ugh. I just didn’t know how. I’m trying to learn. I get angry when others show him hate.

He tells us he’s lucky because he has two moms and two dads, even though he never sees those who are biological. He wakes up excited to experience the day. He loves soccer. He wants to play hockey.

I’m friends with his mom. I spent years rocking her baby to sleep. I cried at the honor. I could watch him play soccer forever. I think hockey is expensive.

He gets nervous when people fight. He doesn’t understand misplaced hatred. He doesn’t know which police officers are good and which are bad.

I’m sad when I see fear in his eyes. I’m angry when he witnesses blatant racism. I wish he could trust those entrusted with the safety of our community, but I can’t make him any promises.

He wants to go see his mom in Ghana. He wants to see where he was born. He wants to eat the food of his country, the food I try to occasionally make at home.

I want to take him back to see his mom. It’s expensive, but worth every penny. I know I don’t come close to mastering his country’s food. But, he always thanks me and says he loves it.

He cries when he’s misunderstood. He’s learned to take time to calm down. He asks for forgiveness. He forgives everyone.

I look in on him as he lays on his bed and stares at the ceiling. White trails of salt streak his cheeks. He doesn’t see me. He’s looking past the now and towards a solution. He’s an optimist.

He loves playing Fortnite. He loves his friends. He wants to get a kitten. He plays in the dirt for hours. He has a secret fort. He gives his toys away to those who don’t have any.

He plays Fortnite too much. He’s good at it. Especially the dancing. I want to get a kitten, too. I want to tell him that I just bought the item he’s giving to someone else. But, I don’t. I watch him give it away and envy his generosity.

He wants to be a professional soccer player. He wants to be an actor. He wants to be a gym teacher.

I will be his biggest fan. I will help him open doors. He teaches me daily how to be a better athlete. He’s a patient and kind coach. He shows me how to be a better person.

He wants no one to be hungry, bullied, or hurt. He’s shaved his head for cancer. He’s walked to shine light into the darkness of suicide. He’s dreaming about what he can do to stop racism.

I’m proud of him. I love him. He’s my son.


0 views

©2019 by Plotline. Proudly created with Wix.com