365

you were so much easier than your brother. except the early hour, when it was time, it was time and your mother nudged me awake and two hours later a tear rolled down my face when you first cried. you smiled. we smiled. life was new.

365 days.

even at a young age you have a boldness, an adventurous spirit, getting into things you really do not know you shouldn't. the places we find you and make us wonder where our easy little boy went.

365 days.

you learn faith, falling backward out of the tree house, your legs entangling the wooden steps, dangling precariously you smile and declare you must do it again, and then again maybe you learn that life can not be tackled on mine own.

365 days.

you learn balance, on the back of a skateboard, catching air across the ramp, skinning your knees, creating battle scars of memory. we all fall, we don't all get up, but you do. you give away your allowance just to see people smile.

365 days.

you learn freedom, the wind in your hair as you ride your bike for the first time without training wheels. your little legs never tiring you would ride all day if we let you. your heart shines in the way you encourage your brother that has not learned yet.

365 days.

years tick by faster and faster, no matter how we try to hold back the sands of the hour glass, or capture moments through the lens. what will you do with the next...

365 days.

Cole turned 5 today.