synesthesiology

inuit child, my fearless dancer.  let us not forget what happened here. lying in the grass, you are chasing birds you will never catch and disappointment is not a lesson that I am willing to teach today.  your father, slipping in and out of psychosis, will teach you about disappointment.  your mother will teach you about how empty filling your life full with cotton stuffing, like your existence is a misshapen teddy bear, makes you feel on the inside.  let us not forget what has happened here.  we will plan grand adventures through the back yard, where every blade of grass is an entire rainforest, and a decorative water fountain is the best entertainment for miles.  we draw our hopes and dreams in Crayola on the walls and wash it off before your grandmother sees.  frozen tater tots are the only thing you ever ask for, and you are so pure, untouched by insecurity and self-doubt  that a request to smile for the camera is fulfilled with lips spread so wide that your carotid and jugular tighten against your skin and your eyes are forced shut under the shine of that smile. million dollar baby, you can lie on top of me as we peer through the cat door looking for cat-cat's paws.  let us not forget.  the smell of sunscreen, a toddler's wet kisses on the nape of one's neck or the arch of one's cheek, flying above a spinning garden sprinkler, hobbling across stepping stones and always making sure I am no more than three steps behind. "'Thena, c'mon!" is a broken record that turns into a beautiful melody. let us not forget. handprints in concrete stepping stones, dirt between the toes.  you are an archaeologist here, finding artifacts of years past where I did not feel every breath like an overpowering ache.  if there is a God, he must be kind and loving to have sent me a savior in Elmo footie pajamas.  I needed this as much as you did.  I have to leave all too soon and I wish I could take you wish me and make sure you are always safe.  let us not forget what we have learned here about unassuming, no-strings-attached love, spelled out by a toddler’s excited shrieking of my name.  there is no good enough, there is no being better to get what you deserve.  there is never enough time. there just is.  eli ry ty.  let us not forget how the heart always remembers how to keep beating.