The strings are tangled
coiling up and evading prying fingertips
his brow furrows
his young fingers fumble
I feel frustrated
I can’t tie these knots for him
or untangle the strings
Some things, a boy must do alone to become a man
My fingers twitch, wanting to tie the knots for him
remembering friendship bracelets long ago
my fingers deftly weaving them at camp
the smell of woods wet from rain
his eyes cross, the diagram is unclear
and I can see it
my lips struggle to translate it
I untangle the language to explain
he untangles the knots

My own knots are more complicated
I worry over them each day just as he does his
his knots are worn loose by friction
constant rubbing against his clothes
mine are worn loose the same
constant rubbing of worries about the future
constant longing for completion
Each morning he checks his knots
and I check mine
Him with fingertips
Me with prayers

And so we reconnect so that we can begin another day.