I went to see if D was still awake.
I wanted to carry his half-sleeping body to the patio door and show him the fireflies.
But he was out.
I sat in the dark of his room, the colored lights of his clock the only illumination
Save for the waning light through the trees outside his window, and I really looked at him.
The tension gone from his little furrowed brow.
The tiny little blonde hairs below his ear and nose that will
One day be beard and mustache hair.
The sweet curve of his tiny nose.
His beautiful lips, which can speak words that wound
and that will one day kiss women he loves.
He is such a miracle.
Every rise and fall of his chest is amazing to witness.
The sinew of his muscles, a masterpiece.
The way his kneecaps are shaped, like mine, and his
Sandy hair, like my sister’s.
The growing gap between his front teeth,
Just like his father at that age.
He is every emotion.
He is all energy.
He is growth and empathy and urgency and compassion.
He is curiosity and love.
He is laughter and intensity.
He is dirt and scabs and macaroni and cheese.
How I love this child.