Walking with your son

Now walking these pavements with your son in his Big Wheel clattering on the cement you stop to browse outside the windows of his morning kindergarten classroom. Then he finds a ledge and jumps onto your back piggybacking on the ladder of your shoulders. He picks up chestnuts and leftover maple wings and stores them in your swelling pockets, his curios of nature, like the fireflies of a month ago he put inside his mayonnaise jar. Now, by your lamp in the evening, as he lies under his covers, you want to hold the hour in your hands but instead you have a chestnut and upstairs the breath of your boy.

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