with this younger son of the flesh, at night. It has been days since he requires it but just now there is gas in the belly. Back and forth, back and forth. The rhythm of parents, a match for the thrusting of sex. Finally he burps and rouses for delight before sinking, heavier, heavier. Asleep.
I think of San, missing this with Asher. I think of this friend’s husband, missing this with his son. I think of small steps in the night when the belly is tight with pain. Back and forth, until for one it becomes forth, forth. And then far.