Your petal pink cheeks and translucent skin.
I show you off in pastels, seersucker and creamy white.
I can already see your future face
In the chisel of your profile
And the sweep of your freshly combed hair.
The burbling brook that is your laugh.
Your sweet sugar kisses that are dry, not sloppy.
The way you slap books closed that don't pass muster.
The way you greet the morning full on and ready.
There were times I signed for flower arrangements.
Dutifully displayed their cloying blooms, then watched them die.
There were times for remembering and reminiscing.
For lighting candles and vigils.
Times when I did you honor by doing good.
Times when I fell short.
This is not that day.
Today, you are as present as my hand, my face, your brother and sister.
The sound of your voice is my happy earworm.
The granny smith apples peeled and waiting.
Your favorite music cued and ready.
Your sneakers, untied and there to receive you.
The collage accompanying this piece was assembled from color copies of Jacob’s clothes.