For my boys: I see your hearts.

I know your heart hurts.

You opened your heart right up.

You braced when the sharp pain hit and you felt the wound.

Right there, right in the soft spot of your kind and tender heart.

The spot where you and I are connected just like your umbilical cord connected to me in the womb.

I secretly say a prayer that it wasn't me.

Please God have mercy and tell me it wasn't me who wounded you.

You heart slams shut.

You pull away.

Then comes the anger as your fists form and your face changes.

After all, you already got the memo in the world that boys don't cry.

You find me and I see your closed heart.

You aren't angry my little man.

What are you really dear one?

I pull you to me. You soften.

You know you are safe.

I am hurt. I am sad. I am lonely. I am not enough. I am too much. I am outside. I am scared.

Now we are getting somewhere.

Feel the feelings. Feel all of them.

I am with you.

Let the tears wash away the anger.

Now we are not mother and son,

We are humans.

Whole, vibrant humans.