Do you remember
When your feet swung like batons in the open air
And he called you in the mid ’00s, before FaceTime filled in the gap of human touch
“I love you” would crackle through the landline, and your 4-year-old self would burst into tears
Just as your mother handed you the phone.
It was in these moments
That you remember and can never forget eternal youth, calling your Dad and crying because earaches feel like you’re dying and you just wish he was here to hold you
It’s mid-August, he’s taking you to the beach
Your shoulder aching from carrying your beach chair and mini cooler
And he looks at you out of the blue of the sky and whispers
“I love you, Bump”
And it makes him live forever.
Spelled out in the sand, like seeing a dropped popsicle and wondering how that blew over, which child spelled out waterworks in salt in any language they’ve been taught
You taught me how to write cursive, but I already was fluent with your language of love.