my tattered bible is borrowed and inscribed to J1 for his fifth birthday. he is seventeen now, and has a cooler looking, leather bound edition.
twelve years is hardly long. not enough for boy to become man, for weight settle in. and not enough for mind to form and firm, for faith to grow to strength. the seasons have scuttled away the trusting cherub but i have not yet learnt to let go. hold on, i want to tell him. we're not ready. i wish him readiness for the whole world, and i wish he were more ready.
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