The two girls I carry below my heart. The three boys who run circles around me all day long. I want them to be mine.
I refer to them as such, of course. My twins. My sons. Our children. But oh, the flimsy power of possessive pronouns. They have never been mine to keep.
I did not create them. I cannot control them. I will not save them. What humbling, frustrating, and defining truths.
