Our little “Stinky” is (almost) all grown up.

It is a stage that suits him well; a cross between young body and old soul.

I suspect he has always known, deep down, that he was meant for more than tree branches, milk crates and gravity.

Always known, in the hollow of his bones, that he was conceived from a union between sky and stars; moon and darkness.

Has felt the pull, from his Earth bound beginnings, to something bigger than himself.

Has known he was meant to rule the heavens, soar just this side of angels, pierce the veil, and return to us; wings full of stardust, eternity in his eyes.

As we below, bound by physics and fear, collect his cast off bits, follow behind him, pull up; stop short in the moment where ground gives way to crumbling shoreline, gives way to water, gives way to rock and sky.

We stand at the precipice, hold our breath, wish we were weightless, wish we were free, wish we were brave, exhale only when he has taken flight, cleared all obstacles, and is lost to the horizon.