Cathleen Luna and Christopher Luna
Flushing Meadows Corona Park, Spring 1972
Before I was born, I already knew how to love. All the knowledge I needed had already been transferred from my mother to me, through her amniotic fluid. A love that could not be hindered by alcohol or neglect. A love that shines in spite of the terrible shit that mothers and fathers do to their children. My mother evidence that evolution exists, because it manifested itself in a single generation.
What remains to be learned? Kindness, compassion, understanding. How to refrain from being an asshole. How to keep my mouth shut when impulse rather than intelligence drives my thought process.
A nanosecond’s difference between nurturing or obliterating the one you love.
An infinitude of choices.
Fractions of seconds eternities in which to fuck it all up or get it right.
The only constant is love.
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