day 1
________

today is the day.

     Time pulled you earthside.

     unfortunate for you, with the cold and the tears and your first taste of air. you were warm in your cocoon. the sound of a steady heartbeat thrummed the length and breadth of your whole world. "anxiety" (a dirty word) couldn't exist in such a measured space. there was no room for its bloom. you tumbled and turned, held tight. not an inch to spare for anything but bliss.

     you were secure.

     once you could stretch your little fingertips and touch safe boundaries, you knew your place in your world. it felt beautiful and forever.

     and then you were born.

day 10, 585
________

dear andrew,

i wanted to write an exposé for your birthday. to take apart what makes you work, polish it up, and show it off. i wanted to be clever and sharpen your edges so people could see what i see in full focus. but wading through grand metaphors, halfway between assigning 'this' to 'that,' i realized: there is nothing to say. people do see. people who know you don't need comparisons. or turned phrases. or examinations and explanations. there is no second you to unpack for the world, to dust off and display. and those people who know you —

we can say all the same things.

and it sounds an awful lot like pride when we do. "this guy!" "hey, drew!" "that's our andrew!"

every.

single.

time.

a stranger to me is an old friend to you. each one special, lined up in rows by anecdote, because that's how they greet you. not with an open hand but a memory. chance encounters bring up stories about time spent and never forgotten. in every regale, you are the same. the impressions you leave behind are forever.

(i dare one person to say that isn't true.)

while most of you is permanently displayed, there are small, select bits of your heart reserved only for nathan and i. places softer than those edges other people can touch, molded into a safe space for our family. to us, you aren't different. just more. you're tall, but your emotions are taller. i've witnessed your moods, both subline and sublime. when being the raw-you was the hardest part of living. i'm privileged to know you this way. to know you how your ancestors do: by your dreams and your questions and your unanswered spirit.

it doesn't matter geography or company, truncated version or not; you are 100% andrew, so my work is half done. chosen words can't compete with twenty-nine years of memories. anyone who knows you can say that is true.

dear andrew,

your actions speak for themselves. your words are straightforward. i've nothing to do but sit back and watch you be. i'm grateful, so grateful, our world(s) have you in them.

we love you so much.

_________________
A/N: little something i wrote for my husband's b-day. extremelyyy writing-rusty.