Elijah

It is
the purest slice
of heaven
to share
a household
with you to
dream a dream
with you to
build a life
with you in
a kitchen
without a table
we're content to
sit on the floor.

"I can't wait to see you."

Dazzled.
Humbled.

We share a meal,
a game, a show,
a movie, an anime.
We talk, debate,
(the intensity of
those eyes),
and there's
that smile
like a burst
of sunshine,
and that laugh
that makes me
smile, and
we hug
and--

You cough and I hold
my breath. Are you
warm enough? How did
you sleep? Do you
need a blanket, a
glass of water?

All is right with
the world only when
all is right with
you.

Am I a freak?
Probably.
Weirdo,
to love some
other mothers'
child.
Love, complete.
"You are family."
I cried on the bus
but I always cry
on the bus.
I'm a faulty
faucet a
weeping
willow a
salty
subject to a
menopause mess.

Twenty five, you say?
I'll raise you
forty-six and
childless, an
old spinster,
a nobody
to anybody.

"What if I get used to this?"
I laughed. "To having friends?"

You replied, as we walked
side by side, "You'll build a life
outside your trauma."

Speechless.
Graced by your wisdom.
Grateful for your friendship,
your company, your trust.

You are my honest friend,
my Millennial bestie.

You are a strong young man
who drew an old maid
from a deep well.

You were a good kid
in a bad situation.

You were worth listening to.
You were worth protecting.
You were worth loving.
Every moment, every day.
You still are.

Believe it.

January 27, 2021