Abraham,
These days we ask you a lot of questions like, “Where’s the clock?” You grin and point with great vehemence at the clock on the dining room wall. Sometimes we then ask, “Where’s Momma?” in reply to which you frequently also point at the clock. Everyday though, you are more accurate and amazing. You know where your toes are and can find our ears with great reliability. You have your mother’s need for symmetry; if you point to one ear you must then turn our head and point at the other. You point to whatever part of your (or our) dinner you prefer. If you really like something, perhaps frozen pears or kale-flavored rice chips, you throw your point, like an umpire calling a strike. “I want that.”

We have a new mural on the wall of animals and things. It’s half an alphabet. Someday I will get to the other half. We color it with you a little bit at a time. You are better now about eating less crayon and coloring more. I think you like orange. You point to the pictures on the wall and we say whatever it is. Somtimes we make the sound too, if we know it. Soon, the “I is for igloo” will make a cold, windy sound and we will color it very brightly, as if it were made of popsicle blocks.

Pa-

Abraham,
We are recently returned from your first trip to Rhode Island, to visit your families and to see the ocean. As always, these trips are overwhelming for me. Everyone wants and deserves our time and now, with you as the star attraction, it’s even harder to slip away. But it’s worth it, to see you with my Dad and other grandparents, your great-grandparents and your cousins- so many strands in your wire. We stayed three blocks from the ocean and were still able to find time to walk the beach and play in the waves.

The faded remnants of Tropical Storm Ernesto chased us up the coast and brought heavy surf and turbulent winds. You loved watching the white pines in the backyard being whipped by the wind. Inspired by the stormy weather symphony, you became quite adept at playing the windchime on the front porch of the cottage. Mom still took you for walks, bundled against her to keep warm.

In the evenings, we would wander down to the beach and play in the waves. We would dangle your feet in the churning wash of breaking waves and then toss you straight up in the air. You would laugh and point at the waves. Again and again, until all we could see of the ocean was white lines rolling in the dark. We walked home slowly, reluctant to release these moments to history.

I crouched down next to you to take this picture so you could always remember what the waves rolling in looked like when you were so small.

You can barely see anything in the next picture, but it is probably my favorite of the trip. It was great to visit with everyone, to ride out the summer at the coast, to see a million stone walls winding along the landscape. But my greatest treasure was being with you the first time you saw the sea, playing on the beach at dusk with my tribe, immersed in glorious blue.

It’s a big beautiful world. I’m happy to see it fresh with you.

Pa-