For years it was just about you. You + your material desires. The “no babies for me,” self-proclaimed forever cool aunt/godmother to my future unplanted children. A conversation that was a commonality between our 18-19 year old notoriously party-stricken friend group.
A conversation that had inebriated as well as sober over the plate of freshly microwaved taquitos. Always in the same setting: the floor of the living room in my college apartment.
Laughing about the try-hard star athlete upperclassmen that slurred that same pick up lines from the night before with various members of our posse. Following up with “ugh but he’s still so cute to me” then the *sigh* to follow: “I’m never getting married, no kids for me” adamant per usual.
The entire group always cursed you with “watch, you’ll be the first to all”.
Nostalgic times that would remain buried in the walls of my laptop photo albums. An era that got away from us all too quickly.
Often times we shy away from the past, the decisions made, the people that attributed to where we are now. Our biggest resistances, (people and potential situations) turn out to be what we were destined for all along.
To bear a child of the most crooked, narcissistic, pathological convict is nerve-racking. But unknowingly loving one becomes identity theft.
Stuck between feeling the product of your Love attaching to your uterine wall and the fiery hole burning inside at how blinded to truth by protecting a man so evil.
All to the present, we’re now 23-24. It is I that’s the cool aunt to your beautiful baby boy. Gushing over the new beau to replace that black-soul of a baby daddy, drinking vodka shots in my kitchen, laughing how we fell victim to people of the past & how so wrong we were about what our futures would hold.
Oh how these former inadequacies quickly became our triumphs.
Cheers to you, cool mom.
Cheers to us!
-t
