My first child was conceived right around Sept 11, 2001, and as I carried him I carried also the burden of knowing I was bringing a child into a world where such horrors could happen. I often wondered if we were doing the right thing. However, at night when I woke to the shimmy of Sam's personal tango, a popular song whose refrain was "everything's gonna be all right" played in he back of my mind, and I took comfort in that message. I often find reassurance in the random lyrics of song.
Months later I watched him sleep, stretched out on a lambskin on the living room floor, and I saw a conversation play out on his unconscious face. First a smile, then an intense look of concentration, and finally a silent laugh that spread to the ends of his fingers. I believe even now that he was talking to angels.
I think my sweet boy is a new soul. He's never been through the wringer. The responsibility of guiding him to adulthood, helping him find a road with maybe a few less bumps, is daunting. But having him in my life is such a blessing. As I once told my friends as we despaired, I have a daily reminder of all that is good in this world, no matter what darkness lurks at the edges of our reality. Thank you my sweet boy, for always showing me the light.