it’s beard growing season again, thatcher. your dad’s beard is the longest it has ever been in his life. i remember writing to you last year, saying i thought you’d like to pull on it. and do you ever. you like to feel your dad’s beard, getting your fingers stuck in his
not so thick face mane. i want to hold on to that. (not his facial hair…in a few weeks he’ll *hopefully* shave a little!). i want to hold on to the little things you do.
like the way you give me kisses. open mouth. smirk on your face.
or the way you turn your head when you’re fighting to go to sleep. fighting to find the perfect comfort spot.
the way you move your fingers on my arm. like you’re giving me a comforting scratch.
the way you cross your ankles when you sit comfortably. in your car seat, on my lap, it’s your lounging position.
the way you watch others. the way you respond to people.
the way you miss us during the day. your excitement to see us when we come home from lunch.
the way your toothbrush and toothpaste make you smile. you have a different smile for so many things.
i don’t want to forget any of these things. but life changes so quickly thatcher. seasons change. but things also remain, like the way i love you. that will never change.