To Disney and Back
I don’t think I’m asking for too much. Just what I feel like God robbed me of. A family to call my own, a home where I belong, a unit where our bond is so strong nothing can shake the foundation of it. I don’t think it is a fairy tale that I cannot achieve, or is it?
This week my husband, son, and I went on a trip to Disney Land. This was our first “family” trip and we had a blast. We laughed together like we never have, played together like we never have, and maybe even complained together like we never have (hey there was a lot of walking). More importantly I feel we bonded like we never have, except for the day we played scrabble a few weeks ago. It felt wonderful. It felt like the family I always wanted but still don’t quit have. My husband and I did not argue even once. Trust me, it is impressive! Now the trip is coming to a close and as we are miles into the air I ponder what awaits when we land. What happens when you go to Disney Land and back? Does the laughter fade? What about the fairy tales? Are there really happy endings or are they just endings?
I don’t know how long “this” will last but frankly nothing in my life ever has. People always came and go and that’s just the way it was. So this “family” thing I’m trying to hold onto. You know, this family thing I am trying to hold dear. The truth of the matter is I don’t think I belong here. I have a husband, I have a son, but my son is not my own. I am his stepmother but I won’t tell you unless you ask. If you see me anywhere I’ll tell you he is my son. Unless you point out that I look too young for a 10 year old and then only then may I explain. I don’t want him to feel the way I did when my foster parents labeled me. “Oh, she is our foster daughter,” sometimes they would reply. I don’t want him to feel like he is something to deny. I also don’t want to take his mother’s place, which is something I used to feel.
I long to have a child of my own. To have my husband rub my belly when the only zero in my size is behind another number (hopefully that won’t occur). I wish for my husband to hold my hand while I pant in labor and openly curse him for the day he impregnated me like others before me have done. I desire to hold a child in my arms that causes me to love a love I have never known. These are the dreams of my fairy tale and I cannot tell how close or far I am.
I don’t know how long this will last. I don’t know when it will end. I may always look over my shoulder at my past and say, “I wish you would have just held my hand.”
Photo Credit: My Son
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