It Matters
I have no sense of time. It's genetic. It's not a malfunction. It's something that's quite festive actually ... until it matters . It mattered tonight when I was talking to my mother and we were dishing about the kid . The abridged version is that even though I couldn't find his birth certificate (PS: you can bet your sweet ass, I will find it. I am one determined dame), I found evidence that he was born in 97', which means he was 10 , not 7. I had 10-years with my kid. 10 beautiful, perfect years. It's never enough time, ever. I would've loved more time. It'll never be enough time. I'd give up everything I have right now for more time with him. Knowing that he had 10-years matters to me. Knowing that we had 10-years matters to me. It gives me a sense of peace and relief. My son lived 10 glorious uninterrupted years on this planet and I have proof. I found his baby pictures. The day he was born. When he was 3 weeks old, 4 months, a year, 2 y...
