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After catching a breeze and just clearing my mind, thinking about how great my life is, a knock at the door interrupted my deep meditation. To no surprise, he was at the door. I couldn’t begin to explain the joy and the excitement that rushed and flowed through my veins. The feeling was indescribable. It was almost orgasmic. He already knew the deal. He already knew where we handled our business. It was a custom to him to sit on the bed and await my arrival in the bedroom. It had been a while since I’d seen him. I almost forgot how he looked. I almost forgot how much my son resembled him–those dimples, the lips, especially the nose. As he held our son, I couldn’t think of a more perfect moment to tell him everything that I’d been wanting to tell him since he’d been absent from our lives. I wanted him to be able to hear the intensity in my words as I delivered them to him face to face. I wanted to witness the reaction and the construction of his countenance first hand.

He proceeds to tell me that it has been too long since the last time that we’ve spoken to each other. He exclaims that he misses me dearly and I’m the only one he cares about. He explains that ever since I came into his life, he’s felt this sense of satisfaction and completeness. He wanted me to know that he wants us to communicate a little more than we do. He wanted me to know that he still cared and that he still thinks about us. He wanted to remind me from the last encounter that we had last month that it was something he often recollects to satisfy himself on all health aspects–mentally, emotionally, physically, sexually, etc. He went on and on and on about how things should and how they could be if I just let him back into my life “where he should be.”

All the while, I’m staring at him. I’m analyzing every detail of his grimace to make sure I associate those details with all that I want to pour into his soul. For tonight, there’s something special and magical that I want to share with him. I’m in the zone. I’m in the zone while he’s telling me how comfortable he lives and how he’s in school and he’s trying to find a job. I’m in this zone thinking about how I want to express what I’ve been holding inside for TOO long. So, while he’s talking, I interrupt.

I interrupt by grabbing his face and caressing him. I want him to feel my touch. I want to soothe him with the softness of my hands. Through my hands, I need him to associate the feeling with how I feel. I stroke his face ever so gently so that he feels as if I love to stroke his EGO. I want him to be able to recall the nights that we’ve had where we’ve simply touched each other. I lift up his chin so that he can gaze into my eyes and recognize my authenticity and my passion. I want him to be able to see the Truth. I position my lips to say these words that I’ve been longing to say and I want to be sure he sees the pattern and the positions of my lips as they speak them. As he’s gazing into my browns and I into his, in the sweetest, stern, and important tone, I interrupt him telling me about this so call life that we can have with three simple words: “I DON’T CARE.”