To all those who have never fallen in love.

Never tripped over your own soul to be swallowed by another’s.

For all the people that have contrived meetings,

set forth guidelines to follow safely into planned monogamy.

For those who think they have fallen but never had to sacrifice for it.

How I envy their balance, and control of themselves.

To never have been thrust into choosing to be true to yourself at the expense of every expectation you ever had for your life.

Have never known a manicure or file.
And they are bitten rather than clipped.
They have been painted less times than there are fingers to paint.
In many places they are more scar than skin.
The fingers on the right appear to have been badly broken long ago, though they never were.
They often spend their days covered in food, blood or dirt.
Lovingly touching things that make others cringe.
They are not spectacular for how they look but for what they do.
They have created meals that nourish and astound, providing me an income for my modest household.
They have made many things of beauty that fill my house and life.
They have healed and comforted the beings I love.
They are strong and can hold fast when I need them to.
I hope they have given more than they have taken from this world.
Because through helping others…

Here I am the same as before, but different in every way.

Me,

wanting to be there for them every second, but knowing full well such things are impossible.

I have to let go everyday.

Every morning when I wake up and they are not there.

Each time we get in the car headed South again.

They inspire my every thought and they hold my dreams in their ever-growing hands, their smiles are like granted wishes and their laughs like answered prayers.