I was nearing the end of Trevor's nightly massage when he took my breath away. He'd already stolen my heart with sharing his desire to meet Robert Louis Stevenson in Heaven just so he can tell him that he writes the best poems and how he wished the Apostle Paul were alive right now to baptize him (he watched his newest SuperBook installment today). But I wasn't prepared for what he shared next.
Mom, probably me tell you this already three times. (he's never, but he does love quantifying things) But when I was, probably, seven, I had a dream that me was in a building and me went in all the rooms. Me opened all the doors. And you and daddy were trying to find me.
I gasped. I couldn't help myself. Remember that dream I had a few nights ago? The one where he'd let go of my hand and I went racing through a building looking for him? I'd shared my dream with you guys but not with him. And so I gasped.
He noticed my glistening eyes and is famous for questioning.
What?! What?!
Nothing, Buddy. You're just really sweet.
He sparkled his eyes and me and continued his dream story.
It okay, though. You find me. And you with Grams, and PopPop, and Toby and Bristel. You all find me.
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