Happy Birthday, Owain

A year ago Charis performed a miracle. A miracle many woman complete everyday, but the most amazing and beautiful moment that will ever capture my eyes, ears and skin.

Owain laughs, talks in Japanese of some sort (heavy on the Ah vowel), walks with abandon and knows what he desires. When he pushes his way out the front door he will turn right to the barn or left to the mailbox and no stops in-between, except now that the tomatoes are red they have become a detour. At night he has the same order of books he chooses: Puppies, Icy Antics, Sew Words, Llego la Primavera and Charlie Parker Plays Be-Bop. During the day he will pull at your shorts and turn around to face out so you can pick him up and he can play with the mixer. It is hard to fathom that I used to sleep on the couch with him slung over my hip so his acid-reflex would not bother him.

He is an explorer. He might be a civil engineer when he grows up because all objects he has to shake to see how sturdy they stand. He will pick stalls and make bread on the side. He loves the pitchfork and the mixer. He will also have many animals. He hugs Giddeon and Colby daily by resting his head against theirs and laughs every time he sees a dog (real or picture). Flannery and Gus just bust out the room as he runs like Frankenstein’s creation whenever he sees them: arms forward, incomprehensible vocal excitement.

Today we were gathering produce in the garden. He stumbled with reckless abandon through all vegetation and bit into apples, carrots and zucchini. We were gathering to head up to the house. I slung him onto my hip with left arm and he buzzed his lips and spit all over my face. I buzzed back. He returned the buzz and then began laughing. We stood there for the one of the best five minutes of my life: buzzing and laughing. He tilts his head way back, mouth agape and cackles from his belly. I hoot and have tears running down my face.

Jay