Our boy, older now,might rememberwhat I say.And you’re worriedabout the dayliliestrimmedby accident,their roots webbingthrough. What I wantto tell you is youare not faultlessin this. You knowthere’s a reason I losemy temper.It’s not caused byour son’s wakingas night breaks into dayand caterpillars bumpbump their bodiesacross the sidewalkto get pickedby mourningdoves. Wewon’t endureruin. Rhizomeswill grow un-encumbered, body-to-pillow. Our son restshis face next to mine,peaceful, asleep,finally. This morning,when he wakes, I willredeem myselfin our garden.We will have timeto watch rootssprawl forwardto earth’s heart,a blessing. Leaveswill unfurl,tender asmice ears.