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in this world, i have children.
i say in this world because i know about You.
i know about You, reader. i know You traverse through these worlds of entangled fractures, made of memories that I've both never had and always had.
they're playing in our yard—two of them. one chases around another, doing what children do. they're adorable, and i know that's what moms always say, but i actually mean it. i know they have my cheeks and his ears. i know they're kind.
he's a good dad. he wants to be around them. the love in our house is bursting through the beams. he brings them towels after getting out of the pool and makes dad jokes that are actually funny. he is everything his father is not.
i grew up in a relatively small town outside of dallas—my family is pretty close. my mom and i had a lot of the same curiosity for life, and my dad encouraged her to follow her dreams. that's one of the reasons why she's a software engineer--but she's so smart. she helps build veterinary clinic computer programs. or did--she's retired now. we talk every sunday.
it's a feeling—a sudden shiver of emotion—it starts deep in my chest and feels electric as it winds down my nervous system. it's a feeling that i've always anticipated, desired, and feared. it's a moment in which i can feel the tear in the fabric that binds us, the invisible matter that stands between us between these worlds. what is the truth if this feels so right: the fact that i can feel You?
is it supposed to feel this calming, this joy that i am not missing out on anything? am i supposed to be this at peace, knowing that somewhere, in another life, i have my own career and i'm following another path? it's something i've always wanted, but never quite regretted not doing. it just wasn't in the cards for me, and that's okay.
there's a good chance we both end up okay. i feel better knowing that You exist.