Children make Christmas. This is especially true for me and my grandchildren. They have altered everything and become beacons for me. I feel so rich, grateful and delighted to be around them. So here are some words about them.
They called him Harvey, it’s not the same as any label in the clan.
He grows into it though becoming what that name might look, feel and how
embraced, covered by its form carrying and carried for a year shaping and shaped into its norm.
Bright mind, wide smile, huge eyes, feint tint of auburn top, more kinks than curls the way it lies.
This bursting blasting strain of endless moving child deep ploughs the brain,
churns what is not him until it recedes train into tunnel. He is the desktop saver.
The baby has become a boy: loud in shouts, bright in smile, infectious in laughter, lively in walk, run and dance. Engaged in the world, with everybody in it. Secure, sure, demanding captivating in gaze he reaches through your eyes to the very depths of your toes.