Cerva had noticed the distance. There’s a wall being forged between them but she often battled its fruition. She would try to pull him into her embrace, but there were times he would shy away. She wanted to nurture him, to cradle him against her side, but he is less consenting and more independent. ”Growing too quickly,” she often says with a forced smile. As much as it pains her to accept his maturation she realizes that it has to happen. His independence will tell her how well she tried to raise him as he faces the world head-on with its challenges. Did she do better than her own mother and father? Or has she failed him as much as they failed her?
A shudder creeps along her back, but his soothing touch melts away her insecurities even if just for the moment. ”Dovev,” she croons, but he doesn’t acknowledge her. She can see the distance in his eyes as he stares to the horizon with a periodic glance toward passing males. Passive as she is, Cerva quiets herself and follows him to wherever he leads. His adoration – this relationship – is all she knows and all she cares about now. Is it normal? Is it expected to latch so tightly onto a son she adopted one day in a meadow?
Everyone left her. They abandoned her. They forgot about her.
They taught her how not to be.
It’s when he takes pause and apologizes that she tries to weakly smile. ”Dovev,” she says his name again although it has been hours since it last coated her tongue, ”You’re getting too old to be around your mother?” Her heart rattles fearfully in her chest. She knows he will agree but simultaneously hopes that he won’t. She doesn’t want to let go of him, ever.
Cerva