K, I love it when I talk about T around you.

First of all, your eyes light up with a certain softness for your younger sister.

And second, you often call her by her first and middle name at the same time.

You call her “T James.”

The way your three-year-old voice cracks when you say it, the way that you tenderly continue to say it incorrectly, and the fact that the perfect rhythm of this time only lasts for a glimmer, makes me just want to sit in awe at the magical beauty of this life.

I love you.

-Dad