I Love You

"It's the way I feel, I feel - oh this is the way I live..."

-Big Tymers

I was on line at Starbucks. Listening to the guy in front of me tell his female colleague all the things he has to do in Photoshop. Watching the girl behind me out of the corner of my eye because she kept trying to blur the part in the line between her and I in an effort to skip. The Brooklyn in me was on a leash pulling forward getting ready to bark.

Then the phone rang. It was Jason.

His speech is slow because of the meds. But I can usually understand him. Whenever I see his name I light up. 

My heart skips when he calls me. Then it pounds in my chest. I usually dominate the conversation because I have a lot of questions. 

"hi Papi! It's mommy! I love you! How was your day today?"

"Good. I love you."

The words stung me. My eyes burned and so did the air as it hit the back of my nose. 

I am in a crowded place and I want to suddenly breakdown and cry like someone hit me. Every curse/every punch/every disgusting moment of the last 7 months this disease had projected out of him was washed away with 3 words.

I had not heard those words from him that clear and that sincere in so long. And he said them.

And he said them again. And again. And each time I looked around nervous. Trying to hold back the cracks in the facade of my face as I stood around regular people in public who have no idea of the nightmare I live.

I closed my eyes and tried to swallow back the knot in my throat. Everyone was still talking about their lives and their business and their Starbucks orders and there I am: crying over 3 little words said to me by my son. A son I almost lost 3 times in the last 8 months. A son I would lay my life down for.

My beautiful encephalitis riddled son who is going to be hit with Hiroshima Bomb Grade Chemo soon.