Little Special Someone

When they tie the shoes of children, before they know the bunny ear lace,

or when they use the airplane trick to get food into their mouths.

Putting their clothes on and brushing their hair,

taking them around the block,

and all the way to school. 

Their first time walking,

or running, 

or feeling the cool air brush against their face as they ride their bike into never ending space

is all because of

a

little 

special 

someone.

The person who is there for them when they cry because of their fall,

or girls at school,

or math

or recess.

When they have their

first kiss,

first flunk,

first drive.

That little special someone is there as a shoulder to cry or laugh on. 

Or both.

The moment they realize time has passed by too soon, 

and they are moving out. 

They pack up their 

pillows,

sheets,

books,

yearbooks 

and

 photos,

all of which remind them of the past years with their

 little 

special 

  someone 

by their side.

They go to school

or

they get married. 

Or

 they live alone.

They give birth, 

or maybe they choose to adopt a baby 

who is without a family.

They pursue their dreams and become an adult,

alas,

they cry,

and 

weep,

and 

laugh

and

ponder

about the discoveries they have not yet made,

yet all the while,

their little special someone,

has grown older with age,

and younger with heart.

When they hear there little special someone,

is in need of comfort.

They run.

Just like

when they first ran,

scared

and

unsure

of 

the road 

ahead.

When they arrive, they sit by their little special someone

and tell them stories.

Of traveling

and exploring,

and

castles

and 

hills

of

never

ending

space.

Of all the things they have become,

and not yet overcome. 

Their little special someone listens,

with open ears,

and closed eyes.

And eventually, 

their ears close too. 

Their heart pauses 

and

does

not

unpause.

The shoes that lay upon the feet of the little special someone

dangle from the wooden board

on which they have fallen asleep

in 

a

never

ending 

nap.

Soon enough,

the runner bundles into a ball 

and starts to cry. 

They cry and cry,

for minutes,

then hours,

for their little special someone,

has finally become something

that cannot be held

for

any

longer.

Eventually they arise from their bended knees,

and sweating hands of

tears and exhaust.

They make their way over to the end of the bed

and

finally untie their

little 

special

someone’s

shoes.

The end of an era has come, 

they say,

and now it is time, 

for me

to become,

someone else’s little special someone.

It is time

to teach someone else 

how 

to

use

bunny

ears.