You were so small when they put me in the crib with you. I’d never see a baby before, I didn’t know what to expect. There were times you cried and I didn’t know what to do. Someone would walk in pick you up and take you away for a while, only to return you once you had fallen back asleep. Over the years I saw you grow out of that crib, into a bed, into a bigger bed. And for some reason I don’t understand you kept me in sight. When other things seemed to leave, toys, other sounds, I was the one thing that remained constant.
I saw you dress for your first baseball game. The time you burned yourself so badly you cried as they changed the bandages you still kept me close. When we moved you didn’t put me in a box, you showed me the world that was outside of your house. Or the next house, or the one after that. I saw you grow from a baby, to a boy, to a man.
When you would put on that dark suit, eyes welled up; I wanted to climb down from the dresser and give you a hug. Just like you had given me during those times when you were lonely, frightened, scared. I watched over you as you were sick. Stood guard those nights because you were my family.
It might be best not to talk about what I saw you do during college. Some fraternity brother are just weirder than others! I saw the late nights when others thought you were goofing off, head in a book trying to understand English Literature. I watched you graduate a number of times, those robes more ornate every few years.
As I look around the room it seems a little emptier these days. The person who used to occupy the space I seem to have returned to isn’t around anymore. The closet and drawers empty. The laughter gone, even the music you listened to no longer resonates through the house. You told me there would be someone new for me to love, but something changed. You changed. Why do you put that picture in my arms? I’ll guard it, they must be special…
Thank you for letting me be a part of your world. Showing me a life not many childhood gifts ever get. You have given me a purpose, a place, someone to love.
It’s been my pleasure.