My son and I lean together over the thin resistor,
the nine volt battery, the LEDs in blue and red.
We fuss with the copper tape as it twists and sticks
where we don’t want it to stick. But eventually,
there is light, a small blue light. He can’t stop looking
at the glow on the table. I can’t stop looking
at the glow in him. I remember so little
about how electricity works. Something
about electrons being pushed through the circuit.
Ours is simple, a series circuit, with only one way
for the electrons to go. But I know that no matter
how complex a circuit, the same laws of physics apply.
It’s like love. No matter how intricate the scenario,
the laws themselves are always the same.
There are two laws of love, I tell myself.
One: you can’t predict anything. And two,
it will change you. For good. I swear
as I stare at him now, I can feel the electrons
moving in my own body. Or are those tears,
twin currents following familiar paths.
So tender. So true.
thanks, Joan … oh this parenting. how i learn so much about letting go in the craziest ways.