I was in the dark of the parking lot, and the brilliant moon was shining down on me, my only witness.
and there, whispered in the same parking lot I walked and walked while waiting to go into labour with my first born, his name found me.
I went to the chapel in the hospital, desperate for a candle to light. annoyed to find that the 'candles' not only were electronic, but you also had to pay for it. what bullshit. no change in my pockets, that's fine.. his name would be better whispered under the open air instead of this dusty chapel.
It felt so intensely private, I didn't want to share with anyone. I kept it close to my heart, I didn't tell my husband until sometime later the next day.
It's simply symbolic. had he been born a Leo in July, at home, right into my hands, right to my breast... his name would have never been Leo. ever. but for this tiny whisper of a son, to be forever remembered and named by the season and the tides.
it's not his name, it's what *he was*
I wanted to keep the name to myself, and for a few days, I did
but I can't ever keep anything to myself.....
in ways I regret that, kept to myself his name is powerful, sacred, holy. sweet.
in some ways it feels that sharing his name it's watered down... i can't explain it. his name only has meaning to my immediate, intimate family. for anyone else, it's just a name
there is no explaining it
some things demand to stay secret
I wonder how my feelings on that will change as the years pass