Mittens

The first time I remember being forgotten, I thought it was funny. My mom thought my dad was going to get me and my dad thought opposite. I didn't care who was at fault, I cared that I got home and ate dinner.

The second time I was older. I was content being alone. After three or four hours my feelings changed. My enjoyment turned to fear and my sadness to anger. What kind of parents forget their own child? Forget their only child?

My dad forgot me first. He forgot that I was human, that I existed. He replaced me first with reading material, then moved onto the computer, and later to a different life. A life that doesn't include me...except when it's time to pretend to be a family. He became a holiday father. Love can be a gift, but not if you buy it.

Although I've been forgotten by her many times, she's never forgotten me completely...but it's coming. I can feel it the way you feel the air freeze before the first snow. In the beginning there is only the slightest tinge of frost, then it comes on so quickly that the world turns to ice and you stand there frozen without your mittens. I know it's coming; but I am unprepared.

I've survived being forgotten so many times, watched as friends turned away and words faded to ash. I too have forgotten. What happens though...when the child is left behind? Turned into a distant memory, if even that? I need to know so I can be prepared.

I need to meet the cold with my mittens on.