today is my brother’s birthday. he’s 21. and he’s out celebrating. and there is a knot in my stomach. there’s this almost uncontrollable need to protect him, take care of him, keep the scary things away…put my hands over his eyes until the shadows pass and the sun comes out again. 5 years ago I was crumpled into the corner of a hospital bathroom, shaking, hysterical…hiding from how close I was to losing him. but he’s here. he’s here and and I feel like we’re walking on the edge of a very sharp cliff…and I’m behind him, steadying him…in front of him to hold his hand…waiting below him to catch him if he falls. But he’s 21 now and in every possible, definable way he’s an adult. And I can’t ignore it. and I can’t turn my head away. and I can’t be there anymore to hide him under my blanket when there’s a bad man with a gun, to loosen his restraints when they make his wrists bleed. I can’t be there to tell mom when he’s doing something dangerous, to defend him and fight for him and take all the punches. Because he’s an adult now. Because he’s good at being an adult and he doesn’t need me to do it for him…and I just want him to know that.

i love you.

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happy birthday bitchface. loooove yooooooou.

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this week you started to nuzzle. when you’re tired, you lay your perfect little head into my neck and throw your arms over my shoulders. and then you whimper. and yawn. you belly laugh at everything now and you make damn sure you’re as independent as possible at all times…you’re getting kind of sassy. when you don’t like something you raise your left eyebrow into a narrow arch and stare. and when you stare, it’s not not with the awe and wonder of any baby I’ve ever seen…it’s like you know exactly what you’re looking at, how it works…this knowing, unwavering stare that lights the room with little stars.

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