Slipping into his room of shadows and still, I silently pull
back the covers and ease onto the side of his bed.  


He begins departure from the land of dreams and stirs in the
place of In Between, burrowing to remain a while longer.  Smoothing the bony peaks of his blades
and tracing his knobby spine valley, I remember when my hand covered his entire
back.  With each day, my hand grows
smaller and I hate there’s no stopping this growth.


His shape is more boy than man.  Knowing this will be the case only a short while longer
curls my lips into reluctant acceptance. 


I draw a diagonal tic-tac-toe, connecting brown dots he’ll
never see, but I’m certain he’d like the thought of using a magic marker to
connect all his brown dots.  That
thought is welcome and brings a smile. 


Stretching toward the day, he smacks drool-dried lips and
whispers, “That feels sooo good.”  
He sweeps sand from his lashes and rolls to his side, squinting through
slumbered eyes.  He blinks and
focuses as cobwebs clear.


“Good morning” he declares and I agree.


This is good.


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