You

Dear Son,

You sleep next to me as I type. I cannot help but to marvel at the simple and most complex beauty that is your face. How can it be . . . how can it be? I run my fingers along the outside of your ear . . . the edge of your cheek.

Such. Peace.

I love every single day with you. I lie here in this bed next to you many nights - feeling guilty about a tone I perhaps took with you - or that I didn't just give you enough undivided attention on any given day . . . oh - but Son - I hope you can somehow know. . . I hope I've imprinted it somewhere inside you -

the knowledge that you.... you, you, you are THE most important person in the world to me. That even when I am in a cave of exhaustion - it is in me to do more with you . . . for you.

I never want to be frustrated . . . never want to raise my voice . . . always want to be attentive and interested and have time and be fun and be creative and . . .

I will fail Son.

But I will always . . . always, always,

ALWAYS

try again.

Its just that simple.

I love you.