Saying Goodnight

Some nights end with me telling him “I love you.”
Some end with “I’ll check on you in ten minutes.”
Tonight’s ended with me saying “I promise if you ever tell me you are in love with a guy named Weasel, I won’t laugh or scream.”

“Will you faint?” He asked.

“No, I will ask if he makes you happy and if you say yes, I will say ‘Then I’m happy.'”

This boy and me, yes we are mother and son but more than that we are Deena and Rafi, and I see how much of a special relationship that is.

Ending it all destroys that, solves nothing, passes along this suffering onto him.

I know this and yet this voice inside says “You need to go.”
This voice is unwanted and enters without permission.
And instead of tasty cookies it brings anger and darkness.

Is it possible for this voice to leave?

Yes, I am told, but it will take time. A lot of time.

And I want to yell “What about all this fucking time I’ve already put in?”

And so I do yell that, in my car, alone, and I do my best to hang on and do what I need to do to get healthy, to be here for the day my son brings home a Weasel or whatever else makes him happy.