Ambrose with his long feet and pale legs climbing up to the forbid-

en parts of the swingset.

He looks down.

Those lashes are still as long as when he was a baby, they reach

further down his cheeks than they should for anyone other than an

elf. His face lends itself to smiling as easily as it does the opposite.

Where his brother smolders, he burns. When Ezra smiles it strikes

out at and surprises you where with Ambrose, good nature is a ring

sliding easily along a taut chain.

Something pulls at my chest when I think of you son and I let it for

a moment before stopping and asking myself what I'm really willing

to give up for everything that I get from you. Love keeps curing me

of selfishness. The two go endlessly around, hopefully in smaller

and smaller circles until I don't need to be reminded anymore.