You were my one parent
that knew how to be a kid
. I knew the endless joy
of large mound of dirt. You knew that living life in this insane world
could be done with style
. You taught me that these things go hand in hand
You taught me to believe in myself and be my own best friend, as I showed you how to tunnel under the boundary lines that separated the territory of a half-gallon ice cream container. You taught me to be bold, I told you to shut up. You taught me that being strong didn’t mean you couldn’t cry, I tried to remind you of this, when your mother died.
We had a date, you and I. We had a date with a creek, some frogs, and a pile of mud. I know that we should run to the nearest mud puddle and have our fun. You have also taught me that it will probably never happen.