Little B, Little B

I couldn't put my finger on it, but I knew something was missing...

Then, in my heart, I knew I had found that piece.

In a flash of brilliant sunlight, made up of all the world's kindness, the most earnest of hearts came forth on a Summer day:

Little B.

I thought that after he joined us we would feel the pull of the door close on our family. 

Instead, we all opened wide.

Brendan brought in the ham. 

He brought in the endless optimism we had never found so frequently in ourselves. 

He brought in possibilities.

He finds excitement in every day, in every thought, and in every opportunity.

He looks damn good in a suit, and he knows it.

B is number 3, and that suits him just fine. He took naps when he could find them.

He remains a lover of snuggles to the point that he named his teddy bear Snuggles.

                        

                                                     

                                                                 

Brendan is fascinated by emotion. He is the first comfort responder when there are tears. 

It was from his suit's breast pocket that came a handkerchief when he saw my reaction to my father being placed into the ground. 

He held it up for me to take and rubbed my back, never losing eye contact. 

He was 6 years old.

He is just so beautiful.

Brendan is wonderful company.

He loves to climb in bed to read to us.

                                        

He plays with those available to him, allowing himself to be outnumbered.

Brendan is a fortunate friend to have.

He jumps into any frame where the action is packed (or attention is focused).

Always needing to be seen.

Which has lead to his selfie craze...

 

                                                                    

which has yet to end.

We are amazed that he always achieves what he sets out for, whether it be a raffles basket, a vision made into reality, or a donut float he is unable to use anywhere.

                     

                                                    

                         (or cake at 10pm)

He also is so self-reflective. He explained to me one day that it is the getting that he loves more than the thing itself. He loves to win, but what he wins just fades after the excitement dies down. 

"Isn't that funny?" he asked. 

"I find it interesting." I said. 

"Yeah. That, too."

Little B, Little B. 

You are going to shine in the world. 

We are thankful we get to witness your life.

It is sure to be our favorite story ever to watch unfold.

Pantaloons.

Oh wow.
Hey look.
The beach weather is here.
Isn't that great?
About the beach weather?
Hmm.
It is.
I mean, I love swimming.
I love the picnic. The Pringles that are a part of our beach days.
I love the warmth and my kids' golding hair. Watching them swim and play and enjoy.

But I wonder.
I ask you.
What happened to this?



To this bathing suit?
Where did it go?
I am not sure it should have gone away.
Not in June.
Not in June with Irish skin and aging elasticity.
I think this suit would work well in June.
I get not wearing it all Summer.

Like for July, maybe this:

My friends and I could add this number to our beach rotation. 

That is OK with me. 

And we could take this fun picture all together? 

Who wants to? 

Want to get some of these bathing suits and take a fun picture? 

AND save our skin health the WHOLE time? 

Yes? 

Yes, me too.

Look at August! 

We are sharing a little more thigh. 

Look! A little more chest. 

That makes sense. 

Gather the last bits of vitamin D on the double Ds. 

(Or on the A minuses. Whatever.) 

We can end the summer in these outfits and have a real fun photo again. 

We can share it on Facebook with tags and location. 

It can read JCC! or Good Harbor! or Wingersheake-shake-shook whatever beach. 

And we could write it wrong like that! 

How funny to write it wrong while covering our thighs with these suits?!?! 

Let's do that.

I can't do it alone, guys. I can't old timey swimsuit alone. I will go too far. I'll be all 1850s and shizzle. With pantaloons. 

(Yes. Pantaloons.)

Beach weather. Awesome.

Lucky 13

On the day that you were born, your Da held you in long arms and loving gaze. He then went home and wrote you a letter. In that letter he said that the world was a better place for your being in it.

      

This is true.

Sweet Colleen, your very nature comes from the kindest of souls somewhere in our family tree.





Or perhaps you are the one to create its first root or its strong hold.

I have never known someone so calming as you.








I have never wanted to better myself in someone else's eyes as I have tried in your warm, deep blues.

I know I can be demanding.
I know that you are the reason I have learned to apologize.
I know that, for you, I have learned to outwardly accept myself.

You are quietly brave.
You are so amazingly funny!
You keep that close to you and I often dream that the world would see what we do.

Then I stop myself.
The world sees you as you want.

You've got this.

 

Your voice is so simple and sweet that when you sing, people listen to your warmth and feel your ease.







You are the best company one can keep.
You are the lighthouse in others' storms.

You question everything except your loyalty.

If I were 13, I would eat lunch with you and thank the world for you as my friend.

                          

I did that 13 years ago when it was you and I in a new town.
I did that 9 years ago when your siblings were napping and we could sit together in the quiet.
I did that 4 years ago when we were starting in a new school and were both adjusting to it.

You accepted your role as big sister as you accepted your next breath. 

You are the peace-keeper.
You take the smaller slice.
You sit in the middle.
You give up your turn.

  
     
You suggest.
You encourage.

You are as selfless as humanly possible.

You have never been asked. It is simply your nature to nurture and appease.

Colleen.
You are the hearth of my heart.

I will always look for you.

In every school hallway, even after you have graduated.

On every couch with blankets and pillows on it, even after you have moved.

I will always look for you who became, in one day, my every breath, every joy, and every hug.

How did we get so lucky?