(no subject)
I dreamt I visited my baby for the first time. My childless aunt and uncle were taking care of him because for some reason I couldn't.
The baby's face was round with big brown eyes. His hair was curly dark like all my children had at that age--wisps hanging over their foreheads in spirals, like DNA strands. His skin was olive indicating that he may tan easily but not enough for some racially unchallenged person to qualify him the "little Indian".
He looked just like me.
Although I couldn't remember the baby's name or couldn't bring myself to say the his name, he took to me immediately; he recognized my voice from some muffled sound he heard when the womb was his home. I carried him around their NY neighborhood that looked more like a South American city. The markets pulsed with the colors of the watermelons, bananas and mangoes on sale on the hundreds of tables around us. People would smile and let me pass them. Crowds cleared paths from me like I was Charleston Heston holding the magic staph, only I was holding my magic miracle baby. He would look up at me with a huge trusting smile that made me want him to get everything he wanted and needed. A perfect life.
I wanted to keep him. I thought of how I could take him from my Aunt and Uncle knowing they loved him so. No court would keep him from me though. He was mine.
But it was only a dream. I woke up feeling very sad.
The baby's face was round with big brown eyes. His hair was curly dark like all my children had at that age--wisps hanging over their foreheads in spirals, like DNA strands. His skin was olive indicating that he may tan easily but not enough for some racially unchallenged person to qualify him the "little Indian".
He looked just like me.
Although I couldn't remember the baby's name or couldn't bring myself to say the his name, he took to me immediately; he recognized my voice from some muffled sound he heard when the womb was his home. I carried him around their NY neighborhood that looked more like a South American city. The markets pulsed with the colors of the watermelons, bananas and mangoes on sale on the hundreds of tables around us. People would smile and let me pass them. Crowds cleared paths from me like I was Charleston Heston holding the magic staph, only I was holding my magic miracle baby. He would look up at me with a huge trusting smile that made me want him to get everything he wanted and needed. A perfect life.
I wanted to keep him. I thought of how I could take him from my Aunt and Uncle knowing they loved him so. No court would keep him from me though. He was mine.
But it was only a dream. I woke up feeling very sad.