For my son with whom I share an (im)perfect love…
In a hundred small ways,
I fail or disappoint you with my myriad of misses.
I don’t look up from my iPhone in time to see the joy in your face,
As you deliver the punch line from the show that I hate and let you watch anyway.
And everyday you forgive me.
Everyday I learn to forgive myself
And to accept that a perfect love like ours,
When seen up close,
Is filled with a hundred tiny blemishes,
As beautiful as that,
With lyrics dancing on the melody and singing,
And that is just as it should be,
A love that is real,
That lives and breathes,
That experiences wounding and that heals simply by staying connected.