Sometimes, I worry about him. I worry myself sick. I hold him in my arms, and look down at him while he sleeps, wondering what life has in store for him. I worry because there is so much that I can't control. I worry because he is already at a disadvantage; he is a fatherless African American child who will one day be a black man. He will eventually have to navigate his own way through life, without me to protect him. I worry for him every single night, and every single day. Sometimes, it brings me to tears, but I have to be strong. I have to be strong for him.
I want him to be the most well-rounded person I will ever meet. Even more so than his mother. I want him to be comfortable with being on the block as well as in the boardroom. I want him to never be afraid to love, and to live. I want him to embrace who he is and never apologize for being different. I want him to realize that having one parent can sometimes be a blessing, because that one parent is guaranteed to love him even more. I want him to love himself first and foremost, and to be a better person for it. I want him to be open minded, to never settle for less than what he deserves and to forgive people for their transgressions. I want him to go to places that I can only dream of in this lifetime.
I am his mother, his father, his confidante, his best friend, his stability and his provider. I am everything to him, and he is to me, for he is my son, and I would rather die before I deny him a fair chance at living the life he was destined to live. He is the one true love of my life, and I will always be by his side.