The way his eyes shine in the sunlight, flecks of grey and green and brown. They are wide open, curious, not quite able to process the world that is evolving and growing so quickly around him. The scattering of color is enough to keep me dreaming.
The way his chubby fingers clamp open and shut, stretching his arm as far as it can go while he reaches for me. The desperate fingers wildly gesticulate as he wishes for my touch, for my hug, for the safety of my embrace. He warms himself up as he cuddles, without understanding that his warmth spreads to my very soul.
The way his little feet pound the floor as he runs, never quickly enough. To take in the world, to pick up a toy, to play hide and seek. Socked feet, shoed feet, bare feet…any and every way they come, I am in awe of them. An energy that I long to bottle up.
The way his hair cannot decide what color to be. How it stands wildly at attention, blond and brown, or lies limply against his forehead. It curls up or winds down. It is as indecisive as he is. I long to capture it on canvas, or run his hair between my fingers in the rare moments he is still.
The way his emotions can be a tad too big sometimes. Processing an entire universe can be overwhelming. The pouty lip, the trembling eyes, the head slowly lowered, as if accepting defeat from the world around him. It takes a lot for such a little person to understand so much all at the same time. I want to make the world deserving of him.
The way he breathes in his sleep. The slow exhale and the clutched blanket. He dreams. The eyes darting behind the eyelids and the unconscious need to snuggle closer. Somewhere along the line, without me realizing, those small sleepy sighs gave me the ability to sleep soundly for the first time.