Copper Haired Boy
I always dreamed about you, somehow. I think I've been waiting years for you. I saw those twins with Down Syndrome one day and I longed to hold their hands like their mum did, even though they were grown up, and I wanted to help, I wanted to love them.
And just like magic, you appeared. To think you've been in the world for five whole years and I've only recently met you. What was I doing without you all that time? The way your hair shines copper in the sunlight and falls down your forehead as you look up with blue eyes - I was missing out on that. The way I call your name and you turn around and catch your breath. The way you, the best loved five year old I know, the one who dances in front of anyone and receives ten thousand hugs in a day, can come and wrap your arms around me with a gentleness no other little boy ever possessed. The way you make jokes that no one understands, and your laugh is the loudest. You laugh like crazy. Till your face is red and everyone else is laughing with you. And you believe that they're laughing at your comedic wit, but they're not. They're laughing because your laugh is contagious. Because you're beautiful. I know you'll never kick a ball with the same strength the other boys do, I know you struggle to speak simple words and keep up with the big brother who is ever on your mind. You're not the same, but you wouldn't want to be; people don't smile much anymore, and they're focused on things you wouldn't understand. And you have a gift they don't have.
Your teachers call you back to the classroom as you wander out to visit me in the big kids' room. "Have you fallen in love with Helena?" they ask you. You smile. A big smile. Resting a friendly hand on my shoulder, you say my name for the first time: "Hey, Helena."
I dreamed about you, before I met you, before you were born, and yet I never truly believed there could be anyone as perfect as you in my world; a smiling, copper haired boy God sent to make us laugh.