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I took May for a walk.

I needed the cool air to help clear my head.  It’s full today, and the hamster is having difficulty running on her wheel.  The fluff keeps getting jammed into the bearing.  It’s a fancy wheel.  I popped in my ear buds, started the playlist and took off-dragged off, really.

I wore my thin Theory Of A Deadman hoodie and the breeze cut through it with ease.  The sky has been grey and overcast with the on-and-off rain showers.  Everything has greened up so quickly.  Only last week everything was still in hibernation from winter, showing only shades of brown.  Now there are shades of yellow and pink and purple in the spring-time flowers that have popped up.  The air is filled with new scents of paper white and Daffodil, awakening the senses.  The blooms on the trees have blossomed overnight so that all you see in the addition are white and green in the air.  Even the sound of the newly awakened grass under May’s feet is now a whisper, no longer the growl as it crunches underfoot.

And with every step I feel his presence with me.  I hear the kadee-dids from the summer when I sent him videos of a Midwest summer evening, laughing as May wrapped herself around the stop-sign.  I hear the sound of his voice on the video when he explained about the daily pop-up thunder shower in Palmetto, and the lightning that struck a near-by tree.  The feeling of completeness and wholeness I had while walking was comforting.  The intrusive thoughts that had no formation began to seep away and flow into the gutter of the street with every pounding footstep on the concrete.

Until I came to the common area.

I wanted to let May off of her leash so she could run, but I was afraid she would dart out into the street and I couldn’t handle the thought of my dog meeting a car…so I hurried my footsteps until I hit the exact spot on the cement sidewalk where my life fell apart last summer.  Where I began my decline into auto pilot and shutting out of him.  As I kept walking I felt like I was being followed.  By Him.  Here.  Now.  How?  WHY?!  I love you.  Always.  I turned knowing I was alone.

And so I started writing my letter to him in my head-a manuscript, really.  Thanking him, telling him how much I love him-because I’d be a god damned fool if I said I wasn’t.  How I never wanted to change him, that I only wanted to be there to encourage him to grow into the man I see him becoming.  That one day he will be the father he wants to be.  How it hurts that people would work so hard to tear down what I worked tirelessly to help nurture.  I saw myself crying and smiling, and ending my message there.  Then there was the envelope I saw being delivered to his house-one of those yellow kind with the padded insides.  A handwritten letter that just says “Watch Alone” and “Always” and a flash-drive dropped on his desk.

I can see the utter bewilderment, then the gears clicking into place, the confusion that leads to a little bit of anger and frustration, and at the end, a little bit of hope that he knows.  That he knows above all the deep and profound impact he has made on me.  That he and he alone is always with me, and that I know he is always watching.