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Sometimes when I’m sitting alone and just thinking, my mind wanders. I think about Charlie, and baking, and dogs, and soft sweaters.
I think about apples and how they crunch and the Ode to the Apple by Pablo Neruda that I read to my students when we talk about seasons. I think about how when Julio found out I read this poem to my class he made me listen to Pablo Neruda reading it in the original Spanish. I think about how Neruda’s voice in that recording sounded like he wanted to raise up an army to solve world hunger. I think about how some of my students probably don’t get three meals in a day when they’re not in school. I think about the trans students in my school, and the boys who wore dresses until they got to school. I think about the love I have for them and I hope their parents have that love for them too.
I think about who I am supposed to be to these kids who need an adult who loves them unconditionally. Who loves them for exactly who they are. I think about what kind of family Charlie and I will have one day and if the children we raise will be our own or someone else’s. I think about whether that matters, and if we will inevitably raise children whether they live with us primarily or not. I think with the amount of therapy we’ve had between us, we probably owe it to the world and to the children to be some source of love for these kids. But what that looks like in reality, who the children are who eventually choose us as their parents (?) or guardians (?) or family I can't imagine. Part of me knows whatever I dream up won't be quite right. Another part of me hopes that they'll be even more wonderful than my wildest dreams. There's a part of my heart that knows no matter what I will love them with all that I am, and yet there's still a part of me that is so scared, terrified, that I won't be enough. Or I'll be too much.
But that doesn't stop me from thinking about having a big enough house so that we have extra rooms. I think about being a soft place to land for whatever kids might come our way in their own time. I can only hope that if we put enough love into our home, and send out enough loving vibes, we'll eventually be able to get through to the ones who need us most. I think about being an elder queer, who loves the baby queers with open arms. I think about how beautiful it was to have queer elders at my school, and how important it is that I be that for the next generation of beautiful hilarious queer kids.
And then it’s time for lunch and I wonder, who might want to eat an apple with me?