Is This Where We Are?

2 thoughts on “Is This Where We Are?”

  1. Stroking the soft, sweet skin of my newborn babe, the one who refused to vacate the shelter of my womb until forcibly evicted weeks after birth was due, I cannot imagine a needle repeatedly piercing and marring his perfect, perfect body. Then again, I can’t imagine him growing taller than me, or having a job, or texting me, and I suppose all that will come to pass as well. I would now refuse him Ferdinand for fear that it is some sort of corrupting influence, but I did so love Ferdinand when I was a little girl. And if he doesn’t get Ferdinand to read, he might come home with a tattoo of Mike Mulligan’s steam shovel instead.

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