Handsome and gentleThere is a picture of my boy looking out at me from my PC.
You can see the man he will one day become, handsome and gentle. He seems intelligent, yet guileless, looking at me frankly, without judgement, the way he does.
He is a skinny boy, a gentle boy, a delicious boy. He is my dreams wrapped in a human skin.
I can forget we are apes; I can believe we are made of something special.
I cannot ever look at him without sadness that he will one day perish. I feel it is a crueller fate than my own demise.
I would believe in any god that could spare him, yet no gods exist to spare him. I would believe in any magic that could let him never die, yet there is no magic in this life.
There is only you and I and he, spinning in our own universes, figments of our own imaginations, spinning out our lives, meaningless to any but us.
He is a handsome boy. I love him dearly. I understand, finally, what love is. It is the certainty of loss. The boy will become a man, drifting quietly away from me, until all I have is a picture, a few garbled memories, a man who I can no longer kiss but I will still yearn to. I know, we are all destined for this. There is no bargain to be made, no court to plead in. There is only today.