An Accidental Mother by Katherine Anne Kindred Read Free Book Online Page B

intense eye contact. “Tomorrow night … we’ll go outside.” He raised his little balled-up hand into the air and out popped one finger, pointing upward. “And then … we’ll look … for … a wishing star!” He smiled grandly, obviously proud of his idea.
    I am certain that at that particular moment, no real mom anywhere on the planet had a heart swelling with as much love as mine; no other mother loved her child as much as I loved this precious boy. This adorable creature—sweet, gentle, smart, thoughtful, and still smiling up at me, had become as much a son to me as any son could be. I tried to reply in the most cheerful tone, not wanting the tears welling in my eyes to be misunderstood. “Michael, that’s the best idea ever!”
    I tucked him in, leaving him surrounded by his stuffed animals, then slipped quietly downstairs to get myself ready for bed. Teeth brushed and my own “jammies” on, I made a detour on my way to the bed and grabbed the telephone. I confess, I voted for Elliott ten times.
    I cast my votes for Elliott, but only some of them were for his singing. Most of them were simply cast in hope that a special ritual between a boy and his accidental mother could last for just a few more weeks.

T HE M ORE THE M ERRIER
    Both of us ready earlier than we need to be to get to the bus stop, I decide to fold some laundry at the kitchen table. Michael asks if he can play his Game-boy. I say yes, and he sits down at the table. I look at this cute little person sitting across from me and surprise myself with the words I hear coming from my lips: “I want more kids.”
    â€œYou do?”
    Not really, I think. Not the responsibility of it, not the worry of it, not the scariness of it. But the beauty of it, the bliss of it, being surrounded by adorable miniaturepersons who enrich your life on a daily basis. Little miracles, amazing creatures. And so I say, “Yeah, I want to have more.”
    â€œBut you have Elizabeth, too.”
    â€œThat’s true.”
    â€œBut we don’t get to see her all the time,” he says, his words echoing my thoughts.
    â€œI know,” I respond, certain we are both thinking that we wish she lived with us.
    He continues, “Would you want a boy or a girl?”
    â€œA boy!” I reply. “Then you’ll have someone to play with!”
    He thinks about this for a moment and then exclaims, “I know where we can get one!”
    â€œYou do?” I ask.
    â€œYeah! At the homeless place!”
    Once I gather my wits, I tell him this is a great idea, and although I want to burst at the seams with laughter, I hold back my amusement. I tell him it’s time to put on his jacket and get his backpack, filing ourconversation into the “I must remember to tell his grandma” folder in my head.
    I know that a while back his school class collected items to donate to a homeless shelter, yet it’s unexpected that months later he would think of it, remain cognizant of the fact that some children are lacking in, or looking for, a home.
    But I am even more surprised that Michael is not jealous or worried that another child might cause him to lose out on love, affection, or attention. I’m fairly certain his limited time with Elizabeth has helped him to realize that giving up anything you might be required to share is worth the gift that we call “family,” the joy in being a part of something greater than ourselves.
    And perhaps he is learning the same lesson that I have learned from becoming a part of this family: that sometimes more really is merrier.

W ORRY H AS I TS R EWARDS
    I’m back on the couch. I could have stayed in bed, tried to silence Jim’s snores with a pillow over my ears, but a handful of times each year his allergies become severe enough that it’s impossible to quiet them even with goose down. The other reason I’ve left the bedroom is that,