The march of time.

October 17, El Cerrito.

I wish I could keep Dylan the way he is now. Keep him forever laughing, singing, dancing, bouncing around with me the way he does now, keep looking at him and see the way he looks now, the way he talks now, the little man he is now, impossibly adorable. But he'll grow up and be an impossibly fabulous man, and I'll just have to keep these memories sharp and warm forever. Easy enough.