It’s too much I imagine
him saying with words
he does not yet have
too much to be held
too much.

Strange man I don’t know
Foster dad who are you
I don’t want to be here
It’s too much.

We try walking instead
a few steps
then he stops
plants himself on the ground
and waits.
He is done for
now it’s too much.

Do not hold my hand
do not lift me up
do not look at me.
It’s too much. 

We wait.

He reaches his hand
the one he took back
from me
he reaches it out
to you to hold.
As he rises his eyes
focus on your smile
big brother you are
just enough.

With you he knows
he is safe
no fear he will rise
and walk
just enough.

With each step by
your side he dismantles
too much
learns just
enough
and eventually over time

more.

F Cade Swanson is a queer dad who grew up in Southeast Virginia. He runs a school foundation, and writes stories about parenting, family, and chronic illness. His work has appeared in TDR Daily, Snapdragon: A Journal of Art & Healing, Soliloquies Anthology, Nine Cloud Journal, Day Without Art 30, Ailment: Chronicles of Illness Narratives, fresh.ink, and Stonewall’s Legacy Anthology, among others. Read more at fcadeswanson.com and follow him at @fcadeswanson on twitter.