Smoke and sunrise

When the boys were younger I would stand in the doorway of their room to hear them breathe when they slept. When we moved and I woke early or couldn’t sleep, I’d stand down in the space between their rooms and listen.

Once I opened Ethan’s door and he was awake. “Hey…” he said. His room was cold. It was winter and his windows were open. “That’s creepy, dad. How long have you been there.”

There are times now when I struggle to find memories. There are other times when I struggle- just trying to live in memories. And the memories just slip away. His humor, his face, his voice, his laugh… sometimes I am so afraid of not being able to find it.

I guess pictures help. Music helps. But they seem a little more distant every day. You don’t concentrate as the moment is happening… on the details… on concentrating on forming the memory- you just live. You can’t miss the moment. But years later, can you find it? 

Ethan’s nom nom nom joke as we drove down Main street in Alhambra. Dang the timing was perfect. 

At some point I’m grasping smoke.

The pebbles slip between my toes

And water forms in my foot prints.

In the cool of the morning when your breath is fog

The sun rises

And I stretch out my arms and spin

Looking for that boy I once held high.

Listening for his laugh and his smile.
I can hold him while he cries

And spoil him with Japanese sodas.

I can look at the stars… and when it fades

I fade as well.

I save you the blue m&ms.

Like summer vacations… so many they mix together.

And river rafting or dragon boats.

Or shooting at barrels. Picking dandelions while playing soccer.

this flurry of activity that was your life is now my pile of cards on the floor

52 pick up… ha ha.

And no one should ever have to play that game.

I grasp at the smoke and even the smell has faded in the morning air.

the sunrise is gone and the day is hot

And all the candy is gone. 

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