there is a scent of hope drifting up from the basement.
it winds it's way up the stairs and settles in the toy room.
expectantly.
it must have escaped when i lifted the lid on the box.
the one filled with the baby clothes we so tenderly folded and put away.
along with all our dreams of you.
it was too soon to start this again.
but i did not know that.
i only knew the longing that your leaving left me with.
i did not understand that months after your death i would still feel you with me.
inside me.
that i would not be able to separate the two of you.
that i might, not on purpose, make him more than what he is.
or you, less.
