MY CHILDREN


By


Ashleigh Anpilova


Ducky thinks about his boys and girls.
A Ducky-centric gen story.
Written: August 2008. Word count: 500.

 

 

I have always known from a very early age that I would never have children of my own.

 

Just as I have always known I would never marry or make love to a woman.

 

And I accepted those facts quite happily; after all it was my choice. I could have done what other men like me have done over the years and lived a lie. But that would not have been fair to myself, to the woman I married, or to any children we may have had. So instead I chose to be true to myself.

 

Over the years I became Godfather to several children with whom I keep in contact at birthdays and Christmas, and from time to time throughout the year as well.

 

However, I had never expected that I would, nonetheless have a family; that I would have children. Oh, I do not have them in the conventional sense, nor by adoption. Even had I considered the latter, the world in which I grew up was not enlightened enough, at least not when I was still young enough to be approved for adoption, to allow a homosexual man to adopt. Indeed, even had it been thus, I would not have done so.

 

But nonetheless children I do have. And I could not care for them more if they were my biological children. Of course, like all children, they do at times irritate me, annoy me, make me exasperated, make me wonder why I care about them. But those times are far outweighed by the good times, by the little things they do and say, by they way they treat me, by the way that, although they all know my sexual preferences, it is just another part of me; it is just the same to them as me wearing spectacles in order to see.

 

My children are all grown up – at least in chronological age, sometimes, I must confess, I do wonder about one or two of them as far as emotional age and maturity go.  And for me that is most definitely the best age for them to be. I never have been a baby or toddler man; oh, I can hold a baby, I can make the right noises of appreciation, I can read to one, but to me a child comes into his or her own when he or she is able to converse with me. Is able to be at least partly independent, and not look to me for guidance in anything and everything.

 

I have six children: Abigail, Caitlin, Jimmy, Timothy, Anthony and Charles. The first five I see almost daily; Charlie I see at least once a week. And they all make me very happy; they all give me joy and contentment and they will all, I know, grieve for me, when the time comes for me to depart from this world.

 

My children.

 

My boys and girls.

 

They have made my life so much richer merely for being part of it.

 

 

Feedback is always appreciated

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