Today I read “Tonight I Can Write the Saddest Lines” by Pablo Neruda to my students. I had forgotten how much I loved that poem. “I no longer love her, that’s certain, but maybe I love her./ Love is so short, forgetting is so long.” Those two lines saying all that I’ve ever tried to say about love.
Love. The way I’ve held onto you without holding on. The way I can only imagine how you might be.
The way I love my boys more than anything. This different, deeper love that only they could teach me.
The way love still speaks to me in whispers and moans.
The way I have forgotten the color of your eyes because his are so much bluer.
The way everything is now about them. For them. About my love for them.
Two boys. Two brothers. Two boys who will become men.