For the Second Campaigner Challenge hosted by Rachel Harrie at Rach Writes, I'm going for Flash fiction with prompt #2. Straightforward and easy except I'm going to write in a genre I don't normally write in. So here I go...
I watch my son chase after the ball, wishing I could run after him.
I wish for a lot of things these days. Like the ability to kick the ball towards him. Or the strength to pick him up in my arms and squeeze him tight. I wish I could see his tiny hands grow strong. Maybe he'll use them to hold a hammer, or strum a guitar, or design beautiful buildings. I will never know.
I will never know what he'll wear on his first date. I will never see the baby fat fade from his chubby cheeks. Will he wear his head shaved or will his dark brown hair wave around his ears?
My son will turn into a man and I won't be there to see it. Who will soothe his first broken heart? Who will cheer on his first win? Who, in this entire world, will love him like I do?
There is no one.
I watch my son chase the ball and I ache for every second I will never spend with him. And my heart breaks inside my dying body.
I watch my son chase after the ball, wishing I could run after him.
I wish for a lot of things these days. Like the ability to kick the ball towards him. Or the strength to pick him up in my arms and squeeze him tight. I wish I could see his tiny hands grow strong. Maybe he'll use them to hold a hammer, or strum a guitar, or design beautiful buildings. I will never know.
I will never know what he'll wear on his first date. I will never see the baby fat fade from his chubby cheeks. Will he wear his head shaved or will his dark brown hair wave around his ears?
My son will turn into a man and I won't be there to see it. Who will soothe his first broken heart? Who will cheer on his first win? Who, in this entire world, will love him like I do?
There is no one.
I watch my son chase the ball and I ache for every second I will never spend with him. And my heart breaks inside my dying body.