Of Soaks and Suds

The bath tub filled nearly to the top, a little boy situated in the midst of it all, his eyes enamored with bubbles and a stinging sensation. Tiny little hands splashed the surface as I supervised nearby, on a stool that made me all the lonelier.

He is not my child yet he follows me loyally.

My womb did not carry him yet he understands me.

I did not give him those eyes yet he sees right through me.

He does not know me yet he smiles when I am there, cries when I am not, and stumbles through rooms recklessly.

He is not mine yet I am solely his.

His laughter echoed through the bathroom, a shrill yet contagious laugh, innocent and deadly. After having ducked his head under water for a few seconds, he lifted it, eyes beaming. They sought only me and having found me, he stated whilst laughing,

“I love you, Mommy!”

Numb and unresolved, I have few words for such a child.

“I know you do.”

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