Even Though

It’s a short walk from the apartment to the convenience store. The spring morning is fresh and my heart is full. I find myself singing “People smile and tell me I’m the lucky one, we’ve just begun, think I’m gonna have a son.” *

I have begun to feel … something. Maybe just bubbles but, I just know he is there. I’m in love and free and having a baby and happy beyond all reason. I’m 17.

I grew up in a time and wider culture full of hope. All we need is love, peace, and freedom. And I chose life. 

He was conceived about a week before Roe V Wade. All the wiser, or at least older, people in my life pushed me to abort. I knew getting married wasn’t wise, but I had to choose one or the other. I chose love. 

And even though I was naive, I wasn’t stupid. I knew we were too young, too needy, and it was hopeless. I chose to hope anyway. 

It was hard, as life knocked me down again and again. My trust was betrayed, my heart broken, sometimes I didn’t think I could keep going. But I had my son, and another, and slowly rebuilt a life with a new love. And then a daughter. 

I have seen so many of my generation become embittered by the challenges our generation faced. We loved freely and then lost friends to HIV. We celebrated the end of Vietnam, but began to see no hope of world peace. The innocence of folk and grass became the harsh grasping of corporate greed and cocaine. So many of us turned to fear, rules, and hate. 

I don’t know why, and I don’t know how, but I still continued to choose love. Even while it comes with the price of loss. 

Choosing life can be beautiful, but not being allowed a choice can crush love and hope. Too often, not allowing choice destroys a number of lives. 

Now I’m grieving my baby boy and the years run through my head. And maybe other choices would have meant an easier life. But even with the struggles and the sorrow of loss I would choose it again.

As I share this, it is election day in The United States. The ongoing freedom of choice is very much at the center of the divide between the parties right now. My concerns over this are somehow both heightened and diminished by this time of grief. Next week, I will be choosing to turn away from this in my writing here.

I still choose love. I still choose hope. I still choose life. But the most important part of this is the word “choose.” Each day, each morning, each moment, I choose in favor of a better story.

*Danny’s Song by Logins and Messina. The version that ran in my head was sung by Anne Murray.