son

You’ll be 4 on Monday.

Four years behind us, as we march and dance, giggle and weep, drift and wrestle through the days, weeks, months that will become 5.

Every emotion now blurring together and twisting my insides with terror and delight.

Tears, let them come. For we have fought and we still fight.

No one knows, not really. Daddy sees a lot, grandparents have heard, but no one else has really known what I know.

Because I have spent my days, weeks, months, years, hours, minutes and seconds gazing into your beautiful face and searching for a connection to your precious soul.

Puzzle pieces scattered at our feet.

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son

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