We all heard it,
From the kitchen,
The thump-thump-conk-Grunt.
We laughed a little, because it sounded
Cartoony
“You okay, buddy?”
And no answer.
I went to the stairs and saw you sitting there,
At the bottom,
Huddled over your knees and
Trying to be brave through the tears.
My heart jumped
and I jumped
And sat beside you at the bottom.
I pulled your big eight-year-old self
Onto my lap
And held you close.
You held close, too,
Close enough to wet my cheeks with your tears.
We hugged there, you and I,
Until you were ready to try
(Bravely, and with a grin)
Limping
Lurching
Crawling back up the stairs,
And I went to the storage room
To finish the errand you went to do
(Without even being asked,
Because you’re THAT BOY),
And I felt the wetness on my cheeks
And I realized that I was crying
Your tears.
I promise, my boy,
To always cry your tears.
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