Who lives. Who changes. Who cries, laughs, spits up. Who craps whenever he needs to. Who smiles, grunts, stares out EVERY window without condition, regard to time or situation. Who never needs to be anywhere but where he is, when he is. Who wears his feelings on the sleeve of his onesie.
The boy...
There is nothing like watching him. I say that because he doesn't really do anything. At least anything worth noting, worth talking about. There's no name for what he does. He just is. He sits and he plays with his hands. Beyond that, he's indescribable (I mean that literally... I can't describe to you what it's like to be with him. He doesn't formulate thoughts, doesn't posture, doesn't pretend, doesn't let you know that he's not pretending, doesn't need to).
I'll never forget the way he holds his hands. He folds them. Tenderly crosses them. Touches the ends of his fingers together slightly enough to know that he's doing it on purpose. I'll never forget his hands.
His hands...
He'll use them to do the best of things. He'll use them to do the worst of things.
He'll regret using them. He'll wonder what Jesus meant when he said to cut them off. He'll cut them, scar them, callouss them. He'll pick out avocados with them. He'll throw with one of them. He'll catch with the other. He'll shake hands with men he respects. Shake hands with men he doesn't. He'll hold hands with them. Eat popcorn with them. Burn them. Pack dip cans with them. Wipe away tears with them.
The boy...
He'll be three months tomorrow. The longest three months of my life. And possibly the most incredible.
-Will...
in love with Jess, proud of Knox.
This was so wonderful
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