Baby boy,

I quietly missed you today at both the library and then at the barber shop. I don’t know why, but when I see younger boys I always think of you when you were younger, not your brothers. Maybe it’s because I have them here with me now, so I don’t need to go back and grab on to the past. Without you, every little thing triggers memories of you.

At the library, there was a little boy who hadn’t quite mastered walking yet. He was exploring all around and went over to the blocks to where Elijah was. At one point, he followed Elijah under the table and then purposely kept hitting his head lightly on the legs of the table. I smiled through my tears, remembering all the times you would just hit your head on things, a lot of the time on purpose.

When Lucas was getting his hair cut at the barber shop, there was a little boy there getting his hair cut for the second time ever. I know his aunt saw me just staring at him and smiling at him, but I couldn’t help it. You got your first “real” haircut in Tennessee. I had to trim your hair before that because it was growing awkwardly out in little horns on the side and then in the front. It was the random barber shop daddy went to at the time, right across from the restaurant Abuela always stooped at when she visited, near the gas station on the corner. The woman who cut your hair gave me a random piece of your hair and wrapped it in a paper towel. It wasn’t as glamorous as Ellie’s first haircut, but you didn’t care.

Lucas just noticed how he has a white spot on one of his front teeth, the same way you did. I remember when I first saw it on your tooth and trying to figure out what it was. The dentist in Hawaii told us that it was caused by some “trauma” when you hit your mouth at some point while that adult tooth was growing in. They asked if you had ever fallen or hit anything and I just laughed, because of course you did. We think Lucas got his that day when we went to the park by our house in Missouri and he fell flat on his face while playing with his “giant himamous” car.

I had therapy today and I told her I have this desperate need just to feel safe. With what’s been going on in the world, it seems even worse. She told me it probably feels that way because I’ve experienced your loss and I know the reality that bad things can happen. I wish I could go back to my ignorant self that thought that no matter what, we were all going to be “okay”.

I miss you like crazy today and just wish everything would take a break for just a minute. I love you more than anything in the world, baby boy. Goodnight and sweet dreams.