To My Son

I woke up missing you this morning, even though I could hear your lean body shuffle atop the sheets of your bed.

I woke up missing you, even though I could hear your steady breathing, even though I could recall our late-night, mumbled conversation about the poetry slam at a local coffee shop.

I will miss you even more now, because, despite the last-place finish, you found such satisfaction and joy from it all.

. . .who would not love a person who enjoys the road more than the endpoint?

You are equal parts of integrity, honesty, curiosity. Some days, I fear you will see my ruse and turn your back on me.

Yes, I woke missing you today. But I will swallow that longing, hide it away so that you can be free to go and live your life, without lugging along my luggage, too.

I think that I will look for a portable piece of you to carry around in my pocket today, something to ease the ache a bit.