Mother’s Kiss. Mary Cassatt left behind, in 1891.
This image make me feel out of touch. I’ve never wanted a child. And I’ve strived to collect subjective opinions on that desire in order to accumulate some sort of understanding. I know that I don’t need to have that feeling. I know that it’s not necessary to anyone’s being, but I still wonder about it. How it feels to want that. When I seek this, though, I acknowledge: No one person’s desire is same as another’s. There’s infinitude in the spectrum. The reasons change with consciousness and time. But, I still crave insight into that which I can’t grasp. I’m fine with acknowledging the surficiality of what they give, I’m fine with acknowledging that is only in that moment, and that so much can be lost in the rigidity of language that we use to express. I’m fine with that, because that’s all I can have, and I’m still interested. I wonder about why any person knows they want a family, I wonder about what any person feels when they set forth to conceive, I wonder what any parent feels when they hold their baby in arms. I wonder if it’s similar to how I feel when I near the sea, or when I clasp water in hand. I’m always wondering.
Image Source: New York Public Library online archives