My little nutter butter woke up from his nap a bit sleepy. He wrapped his tiny arms around my neck as I gently lifted him from his crib. He loves being held.
I felt his chubby cheek softly press against my shoulder. I smiled, nuzzling the crook of his neck. His delicious scent filled my lungs. It was pure, innocent, and true. I held on to that breath, allowing the love I felt to consume my heart. When I exhaled, every hope, prayer, wish, and dream that could exist came pouring out of my heart for my precious angel.
I will love him, nurture him, educate him in the ways of the world. I will teach him right from wrong and show him how to care for others. I will instill in him generosity, love, forgiveness, and patience.
Maybe he will grow up to be a doctor, an astronaut, or a physicist. Perhaps he will be the humanitarian of his generation and bring hope and peace to the world.
Any of these are possible, but one is for sure…my son will be a terror suspect.
One sad day, nineteen strangers flew planes into 3 iconic U.S. buildings. That day, my son’s future was decided for him. My infant son became a person of interest in every terror investigation for the rest of his life. When he applies for his dream job, he will be suspect. When he flies home to visit his family, he will be suspect. If he chooses to become a pilot, an engineer, or an architect – he will be suspect. He will be suspect by virtue of his skin, his name, his lineage.
He will be suspect, period. It has been decided by the world.
He does not know what the world thinks of him yet. He is not aware of the prejudice that awaits him. I don’t know how to prepare him for it. I suppose I will continue to do what every mother does for her child.
I will love him, nurture him, and educate him in the ways of the world. I will teach him right from wrong and show him how to care for others. I will instill in him generosity, love, forgiveness, and patience. I am a mother and that is what we do.