(Time to write 5 minutes, no editing, on Kate Motaung’s weekly challenge. This week’s word is “hold.” )
I have this feeling most of the time that I want to hold my husband Bo. I want to hold him and make him feel safe, protect him from the confusion he’s living in. I want to hold him and make him feel better, to know that he’s loved even more than ever. I look into his eyes and see that sweet man and his smile, and I try to remember who he was before this hellish time, when we looked at one another and understood what was happening. When I always knew that he had my back, that he would protect me from everything. Now I feel as if I’m in on a secret that he doesn’t know, a hideous, ugly secret. He’s my child now and in some ways I actually have his life in my hands. I decide what medicine he will and won’t get, whether to awaken him, shower him, sit with him. Sometimes he looks like little boy who knows he’s done something wrong, and with tears in my eyes I hold him tight.