From Miracle to Murder: Justice for Adam

All I want to know is happiness.

I yearn to be five again some way, to know innocence, pure and hope, uncrushed, as the sticky bouquet of a dear boy’s first love.

I desire to relive the moment before a forced letter was written, time was lost and my fate was sealed by stalking Evil.

I crave to lick ice cream off a stick and not worry about dripping it on the couch.

I want to play in a sloppy puddle of mud, throw myself into a crunchy pile of leaves as they fall, draw funny chalk figures on a sidewalk and believe again that I can change the future.

I hunger to feast on fresh baked brownies and solid chocolate Easter bunnies because they melt brown sweet goodness in my mouth and fill both my eyes and tummy.

I long to play in the sun without thinking of wrinkles, fill scrapbooks and boxes of memories with the reds, blues, greens and purples of pipe cleaner reindeer and then tie them up with ribbons that twizzle and sparkle with silvery glitter.

I wish to return to a time when life and joy were simple,  doors and windows could be left unlatched, neighbors were safe havens, strangers were not a danger, the use of drugs consisted of two aspirin and, “Call me in the morning,” trust between friends was never violated and play was freedom during a light spring drizzle.

I need to believe that everyone tells only the truth, the word, “quit,” was never invented and that children aren’t treated like dolls made of rags and thrown against walls when they’re labeled, “imperfect.”

I ache to hope that anything is possible, that nightmares aren’t real and that birthday wishes come true.

I strive to be oblivious to the atrocities of life, thrilled again over the beauty of the earth, the crisp scent of a season’s shower or the powdery formations of the mists in a cloud.

I request the world not consist of deception, depressing news, illness or broken, abandoned hearts, the inconceivable theft of one child or the violent murder of another.

I pray one day I’ll kiss, caress, tuck my children’s’ children into their beds and teach them their prayers to my God not forsaken.

I choose to believe in the power of forgiveness, truth, justice, peace, reconciliation, man, child and woman kind, and listening to my little boy angel as he whispers ever near.

I offer my soul, my heart, my brain, bared for all to judge, to see and to read, my bones gnarled from the battles of dreams.

May God’s will  be done, the last page of my life is full and written and when exhaling air is no longer a mindless rhythm,  I’ll turn to my gentle son who was so brutally taken away in death and sigh,

“It’s been too long.  I’ve grieved you, missed you, kept your memory alive, your life as a jewel.  I’m ready now.  Take my hand, lead the way, I’ll be joining you … today …”
To Adam Forever,

Mommy