My heart…

Making the decision to have a child is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body.
~ Elizabeth Stone

I almost missed Jeremy’s counselling appointment on Thursday. Thanks to the holiday on Monday I’ve been a day behind all week; Jeremy missed his LGBTQ group on Tuesday for that reason. When I told Jeremy I’d almost forgotten his appointment, he looked worried.

“I can’t miss that Mom. I really need this appointment,” he informed me.

Thankfully I was able to reassure him we hadn’t actually missed it, although it was close.

Once we got off the bus, I looked around at the sunshine, flowers and leaves.

“Jeremy? Remember when you first started coming here? It was pitch black when we arrived and everything was covered in snow.”

“Oh yeah,” he agreed then he gestured to the nearby lawn. “Look at the grass Mom. We have to walk across it. Come on!!!”

He grabbed my hand and started tugging. Then he grinned. “What we really need to do is skip!”

He proceeded to do just that. I, of course, joined him. We went off, hand in hand, skipping merrily. It was a rather large lawn and we ended up on the other side, laughing and out of breath.

“Now I know why women wear bras,” Jeremy commented. “That’s actually kind of uncomfortable.”

I eyed him curiously. “You talk to me about your breasts often. Do you talk to your girlfriend about them too?”

“Yeah,” he said with a smile. “Hannah finds it funny. She laughs.”

Judging by his smile, that was his goal. We went inside, effectively ending that conversation.

We were waiting for the bus after his session when he informed me he needs to buy camo for next year’s CanUUdle.

“Why?” I asked and he grinned.

“So I can hide better,” he informed me. “It’s hard to play manhunt with purple hair, an orange shirt, and bright red shorts.”

Well, I can’t argue with that logic, although I’ll wait to see how he feels next year before running out to buy an outfit for a single game. Jeremy loves bright colours; I’m not sure how often a camouflage outfit would get worn. Unless it was incredibly comfortable, probably never.

I wrote my blog post last night and shared the photo story with Jeremy. He studied each picture intently.

“Why isn’t she wearing a shirt?” he asked at one point.

“Umm, none of the people on this page identify with a gender,” I reminded him.

“Oh yeah,” he said then stayed silent for the rest of the page.

After a while I went into the living room. Jeremy was curled up in the chair at the computer in his silky pyjamas and wrapped in his fuzzy purple blanket. I’d baked brownies earlier so I got myself one and gave one to Jeremy, who accepted it cheerfully.

I smoothed the tangles in his hair, noting how much it’s grown even in the past few weeks. It’s about halfway down his shoulder blades now. Then I reminded myself I need to re-dye it this weekend. Jeremy’s loving the purple colour but it fades very quickly.

“That page I showed you earlier. I was thinking you look a lot like the person in the first photo,” I commented. “Do you agree or am I just smoking crack?”

His eyes flicked away from the screen for a second. “Yes,” he said briefly.

“Yes you agree or yes you think I’m smoking crack?”

He looked away a bit longer and grinned. “Yes, I agree. I look a lot like that person.”

I gave him a hug, breathing in the berry scent of his conditioner, and took a step back. He takes the bus by himself every Tuesday. Two buses each way and there’s a twenty minute wait downtown on his way home.

Don’t fall asleep on the bus.” The words thankfully stayed trapped in my throat.

I walked out of the living room, leaving him happily designing a Minecraft base on the moon, then I went into the bathroom and fought off a panic attack.

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