Thing of dirt and water and oxygen marked by thinking and reacting and a couch one may or may not be permitted to sleep on. He may not permit me to touch him or to take the bone from his mouth, but he does, and that’s a choice based on many factors, not the least of which is his own desire to let me do these things. How I could ever think or feel myself more deserving of a single thing than this being, whom I call by a name the same way my parents chose a name for me. The same way my genes went expressing themselves to make my face exactly my face. This isn’t special. Or this is special. But it’s one answer, the same, for us both. Copyright © 2016 Holly Amos. Used with permission of the author. |
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