Children

When you visit me in my dream,

You are your 7 years old self.

I find you sleeping outside,

Huddled in a mass of blankets and you are in your onesie footie pjs,

The fuzzy pink ones with the cat hoodie,

I find you outside my bedroom window dreaming and whispering for your dad,

Your dream dad,

The one you imagine you had

If I had not left a marriage filled with anger and sorrow,

Violence and rage.

How I wish things were different back then and I was able to give you the life you wanted.

A dad and a house,

White picket fence and a dog,

I remember that drawing you made in 2nd grade and it broke my heart.

Made me try harder to be both Mom and Dad and something along the lines of Super Mom,

My shiny super hero cape flickering in the wind as I wrap you up in my arms and bring you inside from the cold.