#permanency

My designated name is B3LL4 and my current task at hand is roaming under the ice in continuous submersion as an ice diving drone.

My story began a year ago when i was chosen to be what i am today, putting this beautiful blue drysuit on and this tight mask on my face after i was given a thorough session of hypnosis~

I can still remember the moment i went under the ice’s surface and i looked up as my entry hole was being closed back up so that i may not escape from what is my new home, being reminded that i had to take slow and steady breaths while i reached my flooded habitat to sleep for my first night under the ice.

From that point forward, i was fully involved in making sure i fully lived under the ice, taking slow, deep and steady breath to make my oxygen tanks last as long as i could make them last for.

I still have contacts with the surface through the radio that’s deep in my brain in order to relay informations and relay my current status to my higher ups but never have i gone back up to the surface.

For as far as i know, i have been living under the ice for the past year as an ice diving drone and i am not slated to come back to the ice surface at any point.

My task at hand will be to train new drones that joins the ice diving drones ranks and helping them get acclimated to their new environments while easing them into the fact that once they go under the ice, they will never see the surface again

Ray has been freed for adoption. His parents both signed conditional surrenders at court today.

I have been crying all morning. I barely held it together in the court room.

Any emotions I might have had about Ray being freed have been overwhelmed by memories of and grief for James. I don’t think my grief has felt this raw or this close to the surface since the few months between James’ death and Ray’s birth.

So, I did what I used to do during those months: I went to the cemetery where James is buried. (That also happens to be the place I was when I got the call asking me to foster Ray.) James is buried in a beautiful rural cemetery that is maintained by the town. Unfortunately, it is closed during the winter months - the town doesn’t have the equipment or capacity to keep the narrow roadways clear of snow. So I pulled over for a few minutes, then headed to the parking lot of the nearby Catholic church, where I sit now typing this out on my phone.

I know I will eventually feel the joy everyone will expect me to feel about Ray’s impending adoption. Maybe that time will come as soon as tomorrow morning, when I enter the nursery to greet my dear, smiling baby boy. Maybe that moment will chase away the shock and horror of a similar morning not quite two years ago. Maybe.

Hopefully.

But for now, I need to just feel what I’m feeling. I need to let the memories of my first baby wash over me, and deal once again with the pain of his loss. And I can’t help but think of the joyful adoption day James never got to have.

The permanency of stickers

Has always made me anxious

How do you choose

Where they will live

Forever

Once they’ve been stuck

They’re there for good

Removing them

Ruins them for good

But never using them

Keeps them from their

Intended purpose

But I guess

I’ve never been comfortable