By the time my son was toddling around, I realized he had only seen Lori a handful of times. She would say things such as, "I need to come see your son before he's all grown up," but when I tried to make that happen, she usually claimed she wasn't available. She rarely accepted my offer to come over for dinner or a visit. Instead, she would say, "Why don't you come here instead," which I took as a code for "come to my quiet, childfree home."
Perhaps I'm being covetous here. I know comparisons are odious. And, quite honestly, I know that this is a transient feeling. Tomorrow I will wake up tough as nails and ready to just be and love and fight and rejoice. And I know I sincerely enjoy living that way. But for now there's something soft in me that just wants to be massaged. That wants ease. That wants to surrender. That just doesn't want to fucking have to be strong.