August 10 2023

I love when the boys withhold stories from me, when they have secrets, when they keep things as sacred. Those stories are theirs. I knock on the door. The handle turns from the inside, they crack it open, and I peek in. Can I see more? and they decide whether or not to let me in.

Sometimes they swing the door wide open. Sometimes they slam it shut. Maybe I’ll knock again, maybe I’ll scratch at the door like a puppy.

I love you, I love you, I love you. Let me in, let me in, let me in. Tell me everything, everything, everything.

I stick my fingers under the bottom clearance, that gap between the door and the floor. Wiggle the fingers, slide them along the hardwood. I’m here, ready for you.