#mommawrites

So I sign letters as a mouse, a firefighting dog.

I buy the matching shirts

And I wave to the parade floats.

I marvel at you.

I wonder at you.

I make magic for you.

Because you are the magic for me.

I love you, sweet boy.

Can you believe it?

When all they need to do to see the face of God

Is have a 3 year old boy

Vomit at one o'clock in the morning.

Hair matted with blueberries and rice.

Bathe him in the dark.

Hold him a moment before you dry him off.

Put him in your bed and read him exactly two books

While your husband washes

Pillow, blanket, sheets

Pajamas with dinosaurs.

Hold his hand which is both bigger than it's ever been and the smallest it will ever be again.

In the dark, you do not sleep.

One hand reaches to feel the rise and fall of his breath.

The other reaches for his father.

And you stare at the ceiling like it's the altar of a cathedral.

You worry about damnation.

You close your eyes to pray,

But fall asleep instead,

While we wait for his father to pick up a pizza.

We are in the truck together, and a small silence passes between us. The air conditioner blasts.

I point across the parking lot to a familiar doorway.

I say to my only child, Momma had a friend who worked in that place, once. She used to visit him, and she loved him very much.

Immediately I am filled with regret.

I change the subject and talk about donuts.

About tea shops and pool toys.

I see my husband through the window of the pizza place. He isn't looking at me. And he doesn't see me.

My son is already talking about light up shoes.

My confession forgotten.

My husband hands me the pizza,

And as he drives away,

I don't cry.

I see my self,

Younger, thinner, lighter,

I am a clown.

I am a sieve.

A sharpened knife.

A pillow

A blanket

A fort.

A home.

A pack horse.

A full plate of food.

A long sleeved shirt.

A yellow racecar mint in the box.

A working radio.

The tallest tree.

I sing and dance

I trip and fall,

Make a marvelous recovery.

I say ta-da

Abracadabra

I live to entertain.

I shower with clothes on.

I dance when he says dance.

Sometimes I get a full bellied laugh,

Sometimes only a small upward tick at the corners of his small mouth.

Always I am the clown,

Sitting red nosed

Painted face,

Quietly

KaelucKae fic, chapter two added

Overall summary: As strings blend into woodwinds, Kaeya’s elegant bow is met with a regal incline of her head. Their hands settle into place with the gentility drilled into them as children.

That façade shatters a split-second before their cue when Kaeya’s most devilish smirk flares. He sweeps Jean through the first rotation with as much overblown flair as he can muster. Jean’s laughter bubbles around them.

Pinned behind the bar, Diluc can do nothing but watch. ———

Diluc’s prepared to spend the rest of his life ignoring the gaping hole he’s carved into his chest and his life. But as the night wears on, it grows harder and harder to remember why he keeps himself so aloof from those who matter most.

An avalanche of ugly laughter. “Don’t you get it? I did this, all of it. I’m the monster.”

A soft whoosh and a click, and then silence as Shadowman escaped outside. Stiles slid down the wall, head cradled in his hands, struggling to breathe past the razors in his brain.