Sometimes I Forget That The World Is

Only Later Did I Come To Understand That To Be A Mother Is To Be An Illusion. No Matter How Vigilant, In The End A Mother Can't Protect Her Child - Not From Pain, Or Horror, Or The Nightmare Of Violence, From Sealed Trains Moving Rapidly In The Wrong Direction, The Depravity Of Strangers, Trapdoors, Abysses, Fires, Cars In The Rain, From Chance.

It's One Of Those Unforgettable Moments That Happen As A Child, When You Discover That All Along The World Has Been Betraying You.

Once Upon A Time There Was A Boy Who Lived In A House Across The Field From A Girl Who No Longer Exists. They Made Up A Thousand Games. She Was Queen And He Was King. In The Autumn Light, Her Hair Shone Like A Crown. They Collected The World In Small Handfuls. When The Sky Grew Dark They Parted With Leaves In Their Hair.

Sometimes I Forget That The World Is Not On The Same Schedule As I. That Everything Is Not Dying, Or That If It Is Dying It Will Return To Life, What With A Little Sun And The Usual Encouragement.

Maybe The First Time You Saw Her You Were Ten. She Was Standing In The Sun Scratching Her Legs. Or Tracing Letters In The Dirt With A Stick. Her Hair Was Being Pulled. Or She Was Pulling Someone's Hair. And A Part Of You Was Drawn To Her, And A Part Of You Resisted--wanting To Ride Off On Your Bicycle, Kick A Stone, Remain Uncomplicated. In The Same Breath You Felt The Strength Of A Man, And A Self-pity That Made You Feel Small And Hurt. Part Of You Thought: Please Don't Look At Me. If You Don't, I Can Still Turn Away. And Part Of You Thought: Look At Me.