{"id":52752,"date":"2019-06-22T19:19:29","date_gmt":"2019-06-22T23:19:29","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/?p=52752"},"modified":"2019-06-22T19:19:29","modified_gmt":"2019-06-22T23:19:29","slug":"prompt-14-hour-11-dear-britton","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/2019\/06\/prompt-14-hour-11-dear-britton\/","title":{"rendered":"prompt 14, hour 11 ~ Dear Britton"},"content":{"rendered":"<p><em>Dear Britton, who is trying to have children ~<\/em><\/p>\n<p><em>They will come. I promise.<\/em><br \/>\nTwo gloriously rowdy sons, unlike the daughters<br \/>\nyou expected. Nothing like the sisters you grew<br \/>\nup with. You will learn that feminism contends<br \/>\nwith biology. Neither will play with the dolls<br \/>\nyou buy them, and they will create guns<br \/>\ndespite your reluctance. They will also learn<br \/>\nto cook, and discover that men can discuss feelings.<\/p>\n<p><em>It will be hard.<\/em> All your choices from the first<br \/>\nbirth will spin around them like the moon<br \/>\norbits the earth, the earth her sun. They<br \/>\nwill be your center, even before their father.<br \/>\nWhere you live, how you live, making a living in general\u2026<br \/>\nall of this dependent on two small boys, their eyes<br \/>\nso much like all who came before them. You will trace<br \/>\nyour roots upon their small bodies as they grow.<\/p>\n<p><em>It will get harder.<\/em> They will test you beyond<br \/>\nimagining. Death &amp; danger stalk each separately,<br \/>\nthe heavy weight of empty futures your recurring nightmare.<br \/>\nNothing will ever be the same. Not your body, not your life,<br \/>\nnot the love of your life. Certainly not all you know &amp; learn.<br \/>\nSomewhere along the way, they will cease to be<br \/>\nsons. They will become friends, confidantes, tellers<br \/>\nof their own tales. Their travels, their own children,<br \/>\nwill become blocks &amp; stitches in whatever life quilt<br \/>\nyou piece. And through it all, you will remember:<br \/>\n<em>This is what you wanted. This is what you are. <\/em><br \/>\n<em>It is more than enough.<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Dear Britton, who is trying to have children ~ They will come. I promise. Two gloriously rowdy sons, unlike the daughters you expected. Nothing like the sisters you grew up with. You will learn that feminism contends with biology. Neither will play with the dolls&#8230;<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":68,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[11],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-52752","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-half-marathon-poem"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/52752","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/68"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=52752"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/52752\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":52764,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/52752\/revisions\/52764"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=52752"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=52752"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=52752"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}