For you and only you, I woke. Early. Really early. On Vacation.
You probably don’t remember, won’t remember, but I had traveled thousands of miles to meet you.
It was chilly still, and in my bare feet, I came to say goodbye, knowing the next time you see me, you wouldn’t remember this brief, fulfilling moment we shared:
Your blue eyes on me, butt in my palm, warm body against my chest. “I love you Ali,” I whispered and squeezed unready, handed you back to your mother.
It was from that instant on, I mourned all the stages of your life I would not witness,
I crawled back into my bed, as you got strapped into your car seat, pulled the covers over my head, “goodbye,” I whispered heavy in my heart.
