I would never bring a child into this world

but

sometimes I dream about this kid I’ll never know, I wonder if I’d want a girl or a boy, if they would end up with my hazel eyes or my stupid sense of humour.

I’d wonder if I had a daughter would she sit with me and let me practice braiding her hair,

would I go to all of their shows,

How I’d pick them up late at night from a friends house and see the look of utter ignorance to the world plastered on their faces.

How I’d show them the moon and the stars and show them the beauty of nature on how it works.

I’d show them how to sing and dance in the kitchen with me late at night as the flour covering us both falls to the floor.

I’d show them how to thrift shop and how to skim stones at the lapping beach.

How to build tree houses and how to read and write.

We would have family photos and learn to journal,

Wonder if they would have my lack of climbing skills, or my amazing artistic ability.

How I’d let them eat ice cream for breakfast or the amount of presents I’d buy them for their birthdays, or just because.

How I’d cuddle with them when we felt lonely in the world.

I’d wonder if I’d have to teach him how to sow his own ripped football shorts, or teaching how to play catch.

Wondering how it would feel to have them wrapped in my arms on a cold winters day and watch as their faces alight with glee at the Christmas tree.

How’d I’d watch as they fell off a bike but picked themselves up, how they would learn to shout ‘no’ and tell someone they aren’t comfortable,

I would watch as they trip, how they fall, how they shutdown,

Arguments and love.

Then I would remember that I haven’t got children, and most likely

never will.