I've seen you put more words together in the last few weeks - "Mama, look!" and "Mama back please" (translation: "rub my back, mom"; he's definitely mine). I've seen your budding bravery, tempered with cautiousness, tempered with a desire to figure out the details. I've seen empathy, a hunger for relationship. Already, I'm so, so proud of you.
This. This is generally what I'm thinking of at 2am, on sleepless nights.
And the following day, all slush in Manhattan. Sure is pretty, though.
One of my favorite thoughts on friendship is from C.S. Lewis, and goes something like this: "Friendship is born at that moment when one person says to another: 'What! You, too? I thought I was the only one.'"
This is one of the truest gifts I know.
If there are things remembered when we are no longer on this earth, I like to think of the ways I will see this imbalance as good fortune - the push and pull of being alive.
What are February weekends for, if not for this?