Every morning started with cartoons, spilled cereal, and one missing shoe. Every night ended with bedtime stories and negotiations over why five more minutes absolutely mattered.
When he was little, he rode everywhere on my hip or shoulders. As he got older, he learned without being told that our family worked differently than most.
If something sat too high, he handed it down.
If stairs tired me out, he slowed his pace.
If strangers stared, he stared right back until they looked away first.
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