Warm, floppy, precarious

You tell me on the phone, after Nathaniel grabbed it away, you screamed and sobbed practicing the lines I provided, “I am talking to my Grandma right now.  Please move back.  I want some privacy.” “Privacy” you say again in a loud voice. Gulp, gasp, cough. The phone is interesting to Nathaniel.  You are.

I want to come there and see my grandpa ,okay? On the airplane, please. That would be fun.  Maybe after awhile.  Awhile?  Then you tell me Liza’s crying.  I kiss her, you say. After a few minutes of talking about Liza and Georgia, I ask to talk to daddy.

He started his new job today.  I tell him I want to see you.  Bring you here again. He says when?  I have so much to do for work for this month.  We have to wait a bit. Unless daddy doesn’t stay there and he drives you out in the car. Maybe, he says.

I want to be your stuffed monkey.  You snuggle into your neck, along the edges of your face and push up to your nose. You’d tuck me under one arm and carry me around. My heart squeezed there warm, floppy, precarious.

I miss you, Buddy. gma

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