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Letters to Gabriel (seven)


More. More.

Your first word.

The best of words.

More stairs to climb.

More wooden blocks.

More late-night cuddles.

More pictures on my phone.

More banana. How ’bout two?

More rain drops on your tongue.

More of Nonni’s Christmas cookies.

More blueberries. Just a few. Okay, ten.

More games of catch. Just one more throw.

More of dad’s matzo ball soup. One more sip.

More trips down the slide. Feet first, belly down.

More time in dad’s truck. Just a few more minutes.

More of those peanut butter puffs from Trader Joes.

More help finding the triangle hole for the triangle block.

More strolls through the neighborhood. Just another block.

More dinner parties. Where patient big kids laugh at your burps.

More trips to the bike shop. To spin wheel after wheel after wheel.

More road trips through the dining room with your remote-control car.

More music to dance to. Maybe Too Many Zooz or that Leon Bridges song.

More sun on your face. As you squint yet at the same time pause to soak it in.

More books. The ones with silly rhymes or big red dogs or very hungry caterpillars.

More of life’s best stuff. Please. (Twice we heard you say please. More pleases. Please.)

(Photo by one of Gabriel's favorite people, Haley Bouffard)

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