I Want {Ed. 2}

Copyright Yael Wolfe

I want my Bug-Bug. I want to hold his sweet, wiry body in my arms and smell his hair and kiss his comically large head. I want to feel his fingers in mine again.

I want him to stumble toward me, his arms out, like he used to do, falling into my embrace and sinking against me for three breaths until he decided to get up again and return to his toys.

I want to hear his little barks and grunts and laughs and exclamations.

I want to watch him chew on his toys, drool hanging out of his mouth.

I want to sit next to him at the table, where he claps his hands on the surface again and again, sending his baby food flying. I want to watch him carefully try to maneuver tiny pieces with his clumsy forefinger.

I want him to rest his head against my shoulder and fall asleep like he always used to.

I want him to be healed of his heart defects.

I want this virus to disappear so I can be with him again.