A Lost Baby: When you are not Wanted

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A Lost Baby: When you are not Wanted

Image: Painting No 2. by Franz Kline

            Babies are beautiful luminous things in our world. My sister had a baby, and through the intervention of her boyfriend, I am not allowed to see it. I’m gay. Here is where I should describe their fear, whatever it is, but to tell the truth, it was never defined to me. Their fears exist far out in a deep world of ignorance and hate, an icy world of shadows and lurking doubts, a place where you put of cameras to watch empty rooms and nervously look into eyes, testing for lies.

I miss my nephew, who was once a luminous thing in my world. I miss holding him, feeding him, helping him to walk, to make sounds about nothing and everything, to learn. I miss the unreasoning smiles of joy from nowhere, and I miss him crying when I would leave the room – these are the things that are no longer mine, if they ever were.

When my sister was pregnant, to me, birth was more frightening than death. I knew that I would die, that she would die, that the world had a time limit – but life? No. The new life in the world, her giving to make something new – how would it change us? How would gravity change and the Earth tilt, and what happened if we fell over because of it? How would life go on?

No questions were ever answered, but inside I screamed “Yes!” after meeting that baby; the one I watched cartoons with, the one whom I taught the colors in English and Spanish to, the very one who used to cry, when I would leave the room.

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