I watched with my dead mother eyes, seeing things as I did from the circle of eternity, all things happening at once. If I looked at that specific segment of the outside line of the circle, I could see my son Craig and my ex-husband Albert. I could see them clear.

There is no intervening. There is only watching. Feeling their pain, not feeling blame. Did I blame Albert for his violent tendencies, seeing as I could see the violence woven into his childhood? Seeing him struck over and over with the belt did I blame him for doing the same to Craig?

I could see Craig and feel the fear he felt, the wide eyes and the rapid heart beat. For that time he couldn't escape. He couldn't please his father. I watched as he was thrown to the floor and kicked. I watched him double up in pain. Did I own my part in it? Leaving him with his father while I left for greener pastures? But I knew what had happened to me, the twisting of love in that marriage until it was inside out and folded in and no longer recognizable. It was like the gory bleeding inside of a heart instead of the organ in its normal rhythm. I left and I left him there. There is no blame. It only is what is, what was, what will be.

I spun in my timeless time, watching as Craig looked into the mirror at the bruises that ravaged him. I felt the flash of the thoughts that rose in his head, wordless things about shame and hate and worthlessness. At the same time I saw Albert, making coffee and reading the paper, pretending things were okay. It was hidden in his head from him. So many things remained hidden.

I could follow them through that day. Craig holding the money for the camera, thoughts slippery. It was a bribe, it was atonement, it was a new camera, it was running away to where he was happy before. British Columbia. It wasn't the place but the time he wanted, and that was gone. The pain in his side from the kicks was the real thing.

Albert vowing never to do that again, never to lose control again, not like his father had. If he just tightened control of his emotions and reactions he could prevent it from ever happening again. Ever and never can't work. Like the rigid branch they'll break.

I was there when Craig rolled the golf balls across the table, one to each hand, the balls solid and making that noise on the table. Sadness glistening in his eyes, the dazed look. Giving up. I knew that look. His father coming home, setting the offerings of videos and take-out food in front of him. It wouldn't be good enough. Craig couldn't see that side yet. The side of the wrong-doer, the one sucking after forgiveness. His body ached with the kicks and the punches and the lashes of the belt, so he was righteous in his misery. He knew nothing of the muddled self-blame misery that was his father's lot.

I could see them, see the phone call and the angry look, the fear expanding in Craig's eyes like starbursts. Running up the stairs, two, three at a time. I went with him, I was there when he shut the door and secured the locks. I was the weapon in Albert's hands as he raced up the stairs after him.

I watched and I wanted such a human emotion such as aching to tie me to them again. I was above it and beyond it. I knew it was only a small section of the circle, I knew it went on forever. What was, was.

Was I selfish in wanting the train to take him in that moment? Did I want to hold him in my arms again, knowing as I knew that it didn't quite work that way? He was the child that made me a mother, he was the split from my true childhood to being an adult, the child of my heart always. I missed him like he missed me.