Last night, I opened up Facebook, and saw photos of my friend’s sons, as her eldest headed off for his first day at high school. He is the same age (give or take a month) as my great-nephew. I was pregnant, briefly, at the same time as their mothers, 13 years ago.
I’m not often floored by photos, or stories. I actually love knowing or talking with these boys – though I know one much better than the other – and seeing them grow. Occasionally I think about the fact that we could have a son (or daughter) the same age. But that thought comes only as a theoretical reminder, and doesn't bring pain with it. I don't let it.
But for some reason last night - perhaps because it is on the eve of my wedding anniversary that my husband and I will today celebrate on our own - I was struck by what we could have had, and what we don’t. Emotionally, and completely unexpectedly, it bowled me over.
Though it will pass, too. This I know.