I get such a charge out of him.

Tolliver is so plugged into the world.  I feel like I'm always following him around jiggling my own cord, trying to create a connection that's as strong as his.

He is a fearless tour guide, leading me through little boyhood, choosing routes different than the ones his older brother took, but still stopping at all the best parts: Oh, what kind of truck is that be? and You see that yellow flower? That a daffodil!  
He pauses to process the environment and points out confusing parts: Big, big loud thunder scare meem, and Why ant not moving any more?
Of course there are some sights I'd rather not revisit, places he invariably puddles into a two year old supernova: I not want take nap, I want nuffing, and Why Tucker get he turn right now? 
But most of time he’s a few feet ahead of me admiring some sort of overlooked loveliness, and by the time I catch up, really put myself into his moment, he’s on to the next.

When we're close, though, when he can grasp my sleeve at the sudden unfairness, when I can hold his hand through the commonplace chaos, I think to myself: he's going to grow up to be one of those people who multiplies the energy in a room.

1 comment:

Claire Roderick said...

This one gave me pause, I think I kept looking for 115 teenagers in blue and white band uniforms to magically appear in the picture behind him.:)