The world stands out on either side
No wider than the heart is wide;
Above the world is stretched the sky, —
No higher than the soul is high.
-from Renasence by Edna St. Vincent MillayCub has interlinked his arm with mine, his eyes glued to Toy Story and his other hand picking individual pieces of popcorn out of the bowl, popping them in his mouth. It's movie night and we've been having a somewhat serious discussion about whether or not Buzz Lightyear can really fly. I slowly begin to ease my arm out of his, intending to run upstairs to pour a glass of wine, and he clinches his arm tighter around mine.
"I'll be right back, bud. I just want to go get a drink."
"But you can't go because I love you.
"I love you too and I'll be right back."
"You'll be right back?"
"I'll be right back."
"You promise?"
"I promise."
"Ok. Hurry."
I slip out of the room and start up the stairs, making it only a few steps before my whole body is racked by sobs.
Edmonton isn't far and it's just too far. He's slept in my bed almost every single night since the day he was born and starting in January I'll be blowing him good night kisses over Facetime.
My heart is broken.
I'm going to Edmonton. I had an opportunity to stay, with the risk that I'd have to go to later, and after weighing out all the options I've decided to go. It was my choice. And I'm so fucking sad about it. My friend told me once that when we make a choice, no matter how right it is, we might also need to mourn the nonchoice, the thing that we didn't choose. So, this is mourning. I'm trying to enjoy him so much, noting all the little things that he does, the things I take for granted when I see him every day, but if I look too closely at him I burst into tears.
I know I can do it. That we can do it. If I doubted us, or this, I wouldn't go. Pursuing this dream is expensive, in so many ways, and I am operating on blind faith. Faith in myself, in my son, in his dad, in midwifery, and in good highway driving conditions.
The end of April cannot come soon enough.
