Sun, kisses lucidly against the wooden planks on the back porch.
Folding over the mosaic tiles you bought from Big Lots, or Lowes the difference not mattering.
I try to remember the way your pruned feet would caress against the ground as you watered the Ferns.
Or the way Ben and Leigha would crawl into your bed weekend mornings and cuddle with you.

You probably are clueless about how much you meant to me.
How much you meant to mother.
The nights you would take us in, rub her back, and tell her everything would be okay.
The nights where I would lay on the futon in the great room,
Staring at the stars though the skylight above my head.
Listening to mom whisper about her life, stress, and years passed.
Your hand whispering back in strokes, up and down her spine.

I wish that I had stolen a bit of your smell, in a crystal vial.
I wish that I would have saved it for today.
A day that I needed your comfort and the cupboard play space below your stairs.

I spent over half of my childhood smelling your smell, and loving you.
I haven’t stopped loving you.