The things we've handed down

First, you fall in the love with the realism of the relationship in his True Companion and you wonder if an adult relationship can be that simple. And then you hear this tribute and you think "I don't think I could I have said it any better than that."

The Things We've Handed Down
Lyrics by Marc Cohn

Don't know much about you
Don't know who you are
We've been doing fine without you
But, we could only go so far
Don't know why you chose us
Were you watching from above
Is there someone there that knows us
Said we'd give you all our love

Will you laugh just like your mother
Will you sigh like your old man
Will some things skip a generation
Like I've heard they often can
Are you a poet or a dancer
A devil or a clown
Or a strange new combination of
The things we've handed down

I wonder who you'll look like
Will your hair fall down and curl
Will you be a mama's boy
Or daddy's little girl
Will you be a sad reminder
Of what's been lost along the way
Maybe you can help me find her
In the things you do and say

And these things that we have given you
They are not so easily found
But you can thank us later
For the things we've handed down

You may not always be so grateful
For the way that you were made
Some feature of your father's
That you'd gladly sell or trade
And one day you may look at us
And say that you were cursed
But over time that line has been
Extremely well rehearsed
By our fathers, and their fathers
In some old and distant town
From places no one here remembers
Come the things we've handed down

I've been thinking about what we've handed down to the nugget. Or what I have handed to him - only now are people beginning to say that he looks like me. So I wonder, what did he get? What will present itself? What will bubble to the surface? Will it be the pieces of me I love or the pieces that I disdain? What strange combination will he be?

For now, as I watch his little body and spirit navigating the world around him, I see one one thing that makes me smile: he piggy roots. His tiny little toes and feet are in perpetual motion, even as he is falling asleep in my arms. His little piggies are rooting around, for that perfect position, that perfect place to rest.

My piggies, well, they do the same thing as I am falling asleep.