The Question

Out of the blue, whilst playing cards and being frivolous,
You surprise with me with your question-
Am I different, Mummy?
Such a serious question
Tossed in the middle of a light-hearted moment-
Like stepping on a land-mine
During a carefree walk across a field.
Huge. That’s what it is.
And complicated too.
I stop maneuvering my cards
And realize I have stopped breathing too.
Four words. Four ordinary words in that question of yours, child.
And yet I, articulate adult that I am, cannot find even one word
With which to furnish you an answer.
Yes- breath and game have paused whilst I think hard about how to answer
The question that presses down on my chest, stealing my voice and humor.
Where did it come from, that question? Why now?
Then I notice you are still playing the game; you are still breathing
And you have lost none of the good humor you had when the game began.
And then it hits me. You are ok with yourself.
You accept yourself. You even like yourself
(How many of us can say that?)
You are just trying to make sense of it all
And need to know, as a matter of fact,
Am I different?
And in that moment, the answer flows joyously, freely from my heart
Yes son- you are different…….thank God.
(copyright Jane Grant-Abban2009)