We luxuriated in our date last night, eating dinner off the same plate, reading a huge stack of books snuggled on the couch, cuddling and singing songs as he fell asleep, and then enjoyed an amazing snuggle fest in bed this morning before rising to share a shower and prepare him for camp and me for my day of work. Ezra’s such an intensely physical being. He’s all about the language of the body and the way we speak our love through touch.
While he was eating his breakfast, and I was making his lunch, the incredibly sweet energy of our time together pulsing in the field between us, he asked me: “Mama~ if I were not in this world anymore, and you still lived in this house, without me, what would that be like?” I stopped what I was doing and sat down with him, knowing we were in for one of his deeply potent inquires. I cannot hear either of my children ask this kind of question without immediately referring internally to the profound transmission I have received from my beloved soul sister Victoria, in the wake of losing her beloved boy Koa 2 years ago.
My hands rushed to my heart, as it throbbed in my chest. I looked into his eyes as I said: “It’s really hard for me to imagine you not being in this world, my love. My heart would feel totally broken, and I would miss you terribly. And I would love you so much, still, every moment. And I would feel connected to you, still, all the time.” He nodded, assessing this response soberly, as he took another bite of breakfast.
Then he asked: “What if I had never been born, and you had had another boy who was your baby instead of me? What would that be like?” I was quiet for a moment, looking at him earnestly, wondering where this questioning was coming from. And then I said, honestly: “It’s hard to imagine you never being born, because you are my beloved Ezra Star. But if I had had another boy, instead of you? I’m sure I would love that boy too, because he would be my child.”
He looked at me and frowned, slightly, sadly. I took in his response, thinking to myself quickly: Hm, shoot: What did I say wrong? So I asked him: “How does that make you feel, Love, to hear that?” He shrugged, looking down, clearly meeting some emotion in his little body, and then looked up at me with his deep blue eyes, and said: “I was just thinking that if I was born to a different mama? I would still want YOU, Mom. I would miss you and wish YOU could be my mama.”
I sighed deeply, and hugged him close. And, taking his cue, I corrected myself, and said: “If I had another boy, instead of you? I would still want you, too. I would miss you and wish you could also be my boy.” Then he smiled brightly to hear that, and said, happily: “I love you Mom.”
And I said: “And aren’t we so lucky that we get to be alive together right now, and love each other like this, with me as your mama, and you as my boy.” He gushed: “Yes!”
And then we moved on, washing crumbs off his face, lacing up his sneakers, packing his backpack up. Putting on our sweatshirts as we opened the door to walk out into our day. Tears of holy gratitude sweetly stinging my eyes. Another moment of reveling in the mysterious grace of this exquisite, uncontrollable, poignant and temporary life.