#sentimental thoughts

My boy. My special little boy. I wasn’t expecting this to be my first post. I wasn’t really expecting to be writing a new blog.

Elliot doesn’t like his hands touched, which means he doesn’t like holding hands. As silly as it may seem my heart does break a little knowing my last baby won’t want to hold my hand.

I’m not sure if this hand thing is related to him being autistic, but it was a question we were asked during his evaluation. Although it makes me sad, I try to remember that even though he doesn’t let me hold his hand he still crawls up in my lap so I can give him belly and back tickles. Usually when he’s first waking or ready for bed or when he’s sick.

I don’t ever want to take belly and back tickles for granted. I can’t hold his hand but I can give him comfort and bond this way.

in times like these, where i watch people wake up as a sleepless being, sometimes i think sleep is both a privilege and consequence. you see, i love my degree, i love research too, i love human-work, i love the fact that we became translational in between human and modernity— but you see, i’ve compromised more things than imagined. i get sad for some stuff, sometimes it also makes you feel lonely, but for something really basic like sleep? damn, that gets sadder than i initially felt.

late for a meeting? oh, it was raining. had to wait it out.

underdressed for an occasion? oh, it was raining, so i didn't want to ruin a proper outfit.

looking sad? oh, it's just raining. the weather's all gloomy.

I want to chop fruit and make breakfast, and fold laundry, and take clean mugs out of the sink to be set in shelves so I can watch you drink from them- everything will be full of love because I am full of love- I will be warmth and nourishment and familiarity if only to know you don't go to bed with an empty stomach. and then, I'll be yours and only yours- to have and hold and fuck as much as we want and that is how we will spent our eternity