I'm what they call a "kitchen witch", meaning I keep most of my witchy supplies in my kitchen. I do keep a rubbermaid type box of some supplies in my bedroom though, with a few special items that don't normally go in a kitchen, like bags of stones and crystals, my altar cloth and my tarot decks. My dumb huge dog knocked the box over a few days ago and I had just pushed it back into it's spot and threw the lid back on loose thinking I'd put it right next time I thought about it. That was this morning. One thing I keep in there, and I'm not sure why, is a memory box I was given when I was discharged from the hospital in 2004. That box contains what little I have of MacKenzie Zane, my lost angel. He was born extremely premature, just shy of what the hospital he was delivered at considered viable.
My water broke, and although it was a long and excruciating labor and it is a very long and painful story to tell, I can not tell it now. Needless to say, I still grieve for him every day. I couldn't help but peek inside that box today, and in doing so, I reduced myself to a puddle of tears. All I have of him are a couple of polaroid pictures, a set of his very tiny footprints and the little outfit he wore for our time with him. That, and a piece of a blanket that I'd started to knit for him.
When I got pregnant the next time, I didn't make or buy anything until after that baby was viable to live outside of me. That baby is playing angry birds next to me right now and was the biggest and most healthy of all of my kids. He was also sitting right here when I opened that damn box. When he saw me crying, he put his hand over mine and said "Mommy, it's ok to be sad, and I love you the best of everyone". The wisdom of a 6 year old is awesome. It IS ok to still be sad after all this time. He was my child, and although I didn't get to know him and nurse him and be with him like I have the rest of them, I love him. Even on the days that my heart breaks because all I have of him is the box.
Until next time...