Possibilities

Photo by Wayne Evans on Pexels.com

The notebook paper is warped and stained with coffee from the mug I knocked over when I pushed my laptop screen away from my “maturing” eyes. An accident, though you may tell me there are no such things.

I blot the paper dry, and the mark it leaves on it does not obscure what is written in my 17-year-old’s hand: “College Possibilities.” His list, unnumbered, stretches more than halfway down the horizontal blue lines, in penmanship neater than years past. He is thinking about his future.

I time-travel backward, and sit at this same table writing a list of names for the baby who is still a part of my body, who at 17 will still be part of my body in a way he will never understand until he is a parent. I try out the sound of each name, closing my eyes to envision what each collection of syllables and histories and meanings might predict for this as-yet unmet soul, how he might live into the sound of them.

Over the next 12 months, he will do much the same with his list, trying on each for fit as best as he can. If time is not linear, the lists sit side by side.

I could find that list of baby names if you gave me an hour, folded into a journal or photo album or baby book. I could place my hands on it, wipe its spine coated with dust, particles of our skin and sweat that have collected these past 17 years.

In the end, none of the names on my list rang true. Days after he was born, it was my sister’s suggestion that wrapped him lightly like a cloud, wide enough to allow any adventure he might choose — artist or clown, athlete or sage — wherever his big heart may lead. I hope his list of possibilities does, too.

6 thoughts on “Possibilities

  1. lovely hope you’re all well jody

    On Mon, Nov 29, 2021 at 2:26 PM Laura Nicole Diamond wrote:

    > Laura Nicole Diamond posted: ” Photo by Wayne Evans on Pexels.com The > notebook paper is warped and stained with coffee from the mug I knocked > over when I pushed my laptop screen away from my “maturing” eyes. An > accident, though you may tell me there are no such things. I blot t” >

  2. What I love about this post is the name you chose! Those of us who knew and loved the first Aaron Heisen know that he was all about possibilities! … Anything was possible with my Uncle Aaron Heisen … anything IS possible with your Aaron Heisen as well.

  3. Brought a wistful sigh… was just having a conversation with my now-29-year-old son telling him how he is “still a part of my body… in a way he will never understand until he is a parent.” Amazing, that bond. Your words read like poetry.

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