You (republish)

I turn to you to share the light in my son’s eyes, the infant flame of understanding and passion for the world that blooms around him.  I turn to you with mock horror when my daughter pretends to be me getting ready for work, her foal legs uncontrollably lanky, her voice imitating mine, her face growing up, a bold challenge to my deepest apprehensions.

I turn to you when my day is hard- or I feel triumphant- or my heart aches- or my body needs— when life is hard, and even more so when it simply takes my breath away. That’s when I need and love you most.

You walk down my hall with me, a spectre of the companionship I always knew I’d have-

But there is a gap at the edge of my lips- around the small of my back- in the corners of my smile- in the belly of my laugh.

You are but a figment of my imagination, the body of love I see in the lives of so many, but always veiled from me.

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