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Freya Manns Creaton

United Kingdom

My Boys

February 13, 2016

FREE WRITING

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They’re so gorgeous, I've had so many babies , but they don’t ever stop surprising me with how beautiful they are. Their eyes, I think I love em best, every single one of my kids, born with the most brilliant blue eyes, like the sky on the hottest day of the year. Our Sammy’s have faded to a dull brown of course, and Donna’s got the greenest you’ll ever see. These two though (looks down into the pram), These two are going to keep their blue eyes, I'm sure of it, my two bonny blue eyed boys.

Oh god (breaks down into tears) I can’t let them go, I can’t do it, they’re too precious, too dainty, you don’t even take kittens away from their mams at this age, and these are my boys. Their a pair, look at em, they match. You can’t split twins up like that, it’s not right.

Twins, they say, can read each others minds, you know, they’ll know. If she takes one of my boys, they’ll know. Twins are special like that. Maggie from down the road, she’s got twins, two girls and so alike even she can’t tell em apart. They didn't do no talking till they were nearly four, but chirped at each other in the sweetest way, and you could tell they understood one another, see it in their faces, as grubby as they were. Now Maggie ain't well off, she’s struggling like me, even with just the two kids to pay for, and the twins they don’t have much, but their happy. I see them out on the grass, giggling their silly heads off and happy as anything.

These two would have less, and I'm sure Mrs L wouldn't let me keep my job if I refused her a child, they’d go hungry, we all would, and they’d only get our Sammy’s hand me downs, and he’s so bloody messy theirs hardly ever anything left of the clothes he wears. I bought him the most lovely sweater, from the catalogue, a few weeks back, it was so well made with buttons all the way down one side and warm as could be, but the little scamp goes and wrecks it in two minutes flat. These two won’t be like that though, neat as can be, and all their toys will stay firmly unmangled.

But they wouldn't have any toys, they’d have nothing, nothing at all. I can’t even keep the milk coming in, it’s useless to dream about toys when it’ll be near impossible to keep their tummies full.

But with her, with her he could have anything, everything he wanted. He’d live in a house on a hill, overlooking parkland and he’ll play with his toys all day, and he’d never have to worry bout getting in the way. And it wouldn't matter if he broke anything, cos he’d just crawl over to another set. Hell, he could break his sodding arm and still be better off than his brother.

I don’t want to lose em, I want them cuddled close to me always, always and forever, but Mrs L, she’s got everything, she’s got a future to give him, and no amount of love from my point could give him that.  Kids can’t live off love alone. I want a future for my boy, I want a long life of happiness, I want what I can’t give him and it’s tearing me apart.

I love him, I always will love him, and when I clean his bedroom, or cook for his fifteenth birthday party, I’ll love him. Even if he doesn't know it, even if he looks at me and sees some poor broken old cleaning lady not worth two pennies, I’ll love him.

But the other, the one that stays behind, all I can do is pity him. Pity his poor sunken cheeks, his empty tummy, his grubby face. I’ll love him too, more than anything, but that’s all I can give him, and he deserves more, so so much more.

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  • February 13, 2016 - 11:37am (Now Viewing)

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