They are unclean, uncouth
and unctuous. They wear clothes that don’t fit. Duct tape is their
material of choice when cobbling shoes. They
abhor outerwear of any kind. Unless it’s a knit skull cap worn indoors. Their feet smell, sometimes
so badly it makes me gag. They are impish, impulsive, and impudent. Known to
divert probing questions, they avoid the truth at all costs when coming clean
brings the possibility of disciplinary action.
In spite of hearing the same direction countless times, they are unable to
articulate any type of outward signal indicating what’s being said is being absorbed. Brazen brigands I’d like to bridle, they are often my incubus, leaving me feeling
bewildered, besieged and beguiled.
Yet they are delightful,
decorous, and demonstrative, capable of expressing a deep and real
empathy. They are fiercely loyal,
speaking up for the underdog, fighting for social justice. I often think that
if they can make it through high school with their passion intact, they’ll change the world with their indomitable spirits. They are
remorseful, reliable, and responsible, shoveling the driveway without being
asked or cleaning and vacuuming a bedroom. They are attuned, attentive, and
atonable. They can sense when something is not right with me and will ask if
everything is okay. They make me laugh. Their creativity and imagination astound
me.
They are capable
of existence without me right now, more or less. This is the struggle. And so I vacillate, wondering when
they’ll be ready to leave and how I will ever
cut this cord.
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