I cried, cried, cried.
I cried so much,
Tucker started to cry.
I wanted to stop crying
for him,
if not for me.
But I couldn’t.
He climbed into my lap.
His language is touch.
He wrapped himself around me.
We cried together.
“I miss Daddy,” I said.
“You are safe, buddy.  I’m just so sad.”
Tyler climbed the stairs in his footie jammies.
He returned with my Cinderella doll.
His language is gifts.
He gave her to me, sure of her consoling attributes.
Tyler climbed up beside me,
on his knees, snuggled close.
He looked so closely at my eyes.
He touched a tear as it spilled down my cheek.
With his fingertip, no larger than a pencil eraser,
he painted my face with my tears.

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