What a beautiful day. I started the weekend knowing what I wanted to do. Again, maximizing this time, knowing that I have the whole week ahead of me before I start something new. So I asked my son, who is just weeks away from turning 16, if he would go on a day trip with me. Him and I are as close as mother and son could be, he’s been my whole life, quite literally the reason I’m still living. And I am so lucky because he is so sweet to me. And in return I’ll do anything in my power to make him happy.
So I chose the place for our day trip, about an hour and a half away from where we live. We are lucky to be in an area in driving distance from some beautiful places. Near the water, and fun little towns. We always explore the thrift shops and if we’re lucky we’ll spot some graffiti while we’re walking around. He is always the DJ when we were driving and I feel like it gives me an insight into his mind. He has such an amazing taste in music, I always have him save his songs in my Spotify. And we can sit in comfortable silence as we listen to our songs. And I make sure to thank him for tagging along.
Sometimes I wonder what it would feel like to have had a relationship like that. To feel seen, and heard. To know someone had my back. I’m not saying I’m the perfect mom, trust me I’m far from it. But if I fail at every other aspect of life, I want my son to be able to discover who he is as he’s growing up. To not ever once feel ashamed for what he loves. To know no matter what he’s always loved.
Whats even more odd is as I’ve alluded its been just him and I for so long. Even though we live where I grew up, still walking distance from my childhood home. He goes to the same school I went, I never made it out of this town. But every one of my family members moved away, to a different state, one by one. Starting with my mom. When I was 18 and I found out I was pregnant, I remember her looking at me and telling me that if I kept it she wouldn’t be helping me at all. My act of defiance was having him despite not having her to call. To lean on. And then my older sister moved away, she needed to escape. I don’t blame her, but each loss was painful. And then my dad moved away, the last family member. It was so strange I would have never guessed in a million years it would’ve happened. But sometimes life works in mysterious ways.
The way I parent may not be conventional, some may think I baby him or give him too much control. I let him choose what he wants for dinner, he has the ability to explore the music that he listens to. He dances. He takes art lessons. He has a unique fashion sense. He loves RuPauls Drag Race. Some parents would judge me, judge him, say that the way I’m raising him is not ok. But really all I’m doing is the opposite of what was done for me. I’m allowing him to be him. And he’s fucking amazing.
The Girl Without A Face 