Your brother scratched you when you were nine
So there’s a small scar on your chin
It’s barely noticeable on that smooth skin of yours
But it always seems to catch my eye
When you stare off into the distance
It was a cold day in mid-autumn
Silently our boots walked up those concrete steps
Your mother showed me pictures of a younger you
You used to have these cute blue mittens
And your mother kept them all these years later
You didn’t know but your mother pulled me aside
She offered me some pictures to keep
And I never told you this after all this time
But I keep them in a frame on my office desk
And I stare at where your scar would later come to be
We have dinner dates every week
And we put our children to sleep together
We sometimes lay under the blanket with them
And sometimes we just hear them breathe at night
Their little fingers and noses twitch in dreams like yours do
We bought our kids these cute blue mittens
And I kept them when they outgrew them
Frosting covered little fingers as laughter echoed out
We didn’t take any pictures of that small moment
But I sometimes taste frosting early Saturday mornings
There’s a pile of books you read in the living room
I ask you to tell me about the adventures you have
A cashmere blanket lays over the sofa
The fire crackles and then swoons and I fall asleep
Your fingers graze the ground as your chest lifts slightly to breathe