Kissing my Palm

The thing is, he saw you do it first.

My dear, impressionable 7 year old son, who is living with moderate autism, who thinks so highly of you...even if you don't acknowledge it, or appreciate it.

You thought he wasn't paying attention - engrossed in his iDevice, watching gaming videos - when you tenderly lifted my hand to your lips, palm first so that you could kiss the consequence of my clumsiness. But he saw you; and he absorbed your tender gesture.

I couldn't believe it. You're my ex-boyfriend. You aren't suppose to be so loving. It's like we're still living in a mixed up land, where we aren't together, but still long to be.

But it seems that love exists in any land...mixed up or not.

And love, no matter how it is defined - or not - is still able to procreate kindness.

The next day, my son and I went to high five each other. And as we smacked hands, I saw his expression change. There was deep concern that furrowed his darling brow. He grabbed my hand, looked at it, looked at me and bent his little head so that he could kiss my boo-boo and make it all better.

Just as he had seen you do it.

With such a marked tenderness.

You don't want to be with me, because you don't want to be with "us," - you don't want to be a father. But you're already affecting him more than you know.

He'll remember this - and he will be a more tender man, a more tender lover, husband - and hopefully - father, because of this moment when you chose to love me.