You are the one I have trusted my boy to, the only one now who can take care of him, the one who has always taken care of him.
From the moment he tried to eat out of the plant pot, in our tiny earthless city garden, he was always in search of you. We moved 100 miles to find you, to give you to him, never once believing that soon you would ask to keep him.
You lived your lives together, buried under his fingernails, ground into his knees, worn in triumph across his face, clothes, shoes. Now all that remains are faint handprints in unreachable places, fleeting marks on paint to prove to me that once he was here, that I didn’t imagine him.
Now I have given him back to you, for you take him and become better for it, to let him create and nourish everything I see. You allow him to remain my world, and I am grateful to you for that.