I will love you
when you break the silence
with your wordless call.
I will love you
in endless messes cleaned,
in sticky kisses and fingerprinted windows.
I will love you
in your search for comfort on my lap,
wet lashes thick with sorrow.
I will love you
in defiance: little hands
clinging to a new independence.
I will love you
when you grow too large for me to hold,
when the mere presence of me
is not enough to fix your hurts.
I will love you
in cereal bowls and casserole dishes,
cups of milk and mugs of hot chocolate.
I will love you
through the fights:
the not-fairs, the you-nevers,
the accusations that will sit heavy on your tongue
and even heavier on my ears.
I will love you
when you leave me,
will love the small of your back
that has grown stronger than my own.
I will love you
in your quest to find the knowledge
that I do not already possess,
and
I will love you
when that knowledge eludes you.
I will love you
when you call for me,
voice small and distant,
heavy with homesickness.
I will love you
when I give you away,
suspicious that your new family
will not love you as well as I have,
hopeful that they will prove me wrong.
I will love you
in every sunrise and every star-freckled twilight,
in every snowstorm and every bonfire,
in each and every moment of
each and every day.
I will love you.
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