Oh, my Bear.
I remember those days of knowing you were a life inside me and dreaming of who you would be, of holding my hands on my belly and whispering my dreams with you.
I remember those days when I first held you, wrapped in all the wonder of your quietness and your sweet, snug softness, and praying over you with dreams your future.
I remember those days of silliness and laughter and sharing dreams of things you’d do and be as you “gwew up to be oldah.”
I remember those days of adventure and travel and sports and hearing dreams of all the things you would do and places you would go.
I remember those days of holding you close and crying together over life’s hard days and fearing for dreams we might not share.
And I remember yesterday where we snuggled together still on the couch watching flowered parade floats and talking of birthdays and school days and sharing dreams of the days to come.
Some days I wonder how my heart doesn’t explode for love of you and all you bring to this life, this world.
You’re so much better than those dreams, you know.
Happy birthday, my son.