I sat staring out the window lost in thought and far from my body. I was in a childhood memory on our farm that I was raised on. I was a small child, possibly 4 or 5, and I was in a chicken pen in the early spring with the fresh smell of the earth and the warm smell of the sun as the earth came alive after a long winter. The birds were chirping and singing and reminding us of everything that we had to be joyful about. And yet, at the same time, a chicken was attacking me, reminding me that I was in his space. My mother was on the outside of the pen as I was pressed against the inside wire of the pen while the chicken was attacking me. Her hands were pressed through the wire and were covering my eyes so that the chicken would not harm them. I could feel the anxiety and the helplessness that she was feeling. If she let go of covering my eyes to run around the barn and into the chicken pen to help me then she would leave my face and eyes exposed to be damaged during the time that it took her to run around the barn and if she stayed covering my eyes I would continue to be attacked by the chicken.
She had yelled to my brother and asked him to get a bat and go into the pen to help me. She wanted him to protect himself while he got me from the pen. He was a gentle and soft child and yet when it came to protecting me he had no issue finding deep empowerment and courage. He charged into the pen holding a yellow plastic wiffle ball bat and ran over to me chasing the chicken away from me without ever making any contact with the chicken. My mother released her hands from my eyes and pulled her hands back through the fence. My brother and I ran from the pen and through the open door out into the courtyard and into safety.
I blinked, realizing how dry my eyes were as I stared out the window in my bedroom lost in the memory from childhood.
“Where did he go?” I wondered to myself. I want that version of him back. I want that energy back. I want the version of him that was unafraid of protecting me back. As a tear ran down my cheek I realized that I was holding onto something that may be gone. I was attached to a version of him who may not be who he is anymore. It wasn’t fair to him. He didn’t have to be that person anymore, he could be anyone who he wanted to be. He didn’t have to be the boy with the bat even if I wanted him to be. I could hold my own bat, and I was, that wasn’t his role and I shouldn’t be putting that role on him. I even had someone else in my life who didn’t need to be asked, he just picked up the bat and held it firmly. I needed to let go of who I thought that he was and be present with who he was now. My attachment to who I thought that he was and who I wanted him to be wasn’t fair, it didn’t leave the space for him to be exactly who he is now and for me to get to know that version of him. It didn’t leave the space for me to see and love the version of him who he is today, in the here and now, in this moment. And, I was robbing us both of whatever connection COULD be there because I was attached to who I THOUGHT that he was rather than being present with who he is now.