I saw you yesterday. It wasn’t in the traditional sense – Noah walking down the street. It’s your brother. I’ve noticed it a lot lately, as he gets older and starts to fill out in the same way you did. His jaw line is starting to take shape and he looks more and more like dad. I remember when you went through that stage. He’s getting a mustache. Dad told him the other night it was time to shave it off before people think he sells candy to little kids from the back of a dirty van. *eye roll* He’s nothing if not eloquent. I’ve been thinking about the day dad taught you to shave. I remember listening to the two of you in the bathroom while I was still in bed. I remember hearing dad say, “no, not on your nose,” when you slathered on the shaving cream. Your deep, unknowing, defeated, “oh,” came next. Then the two of you laughed. I miss the Noah chuckle.
He’s starting to look more and more like you, love. Sometimes I’ll see it when he’s walking up the stairs. Those same long arms and wide shoulders. Those same, big, awkward feet. The other day after practice, he came home with the signature “Noah” crazy hair. It’s not nearly as wiry and crazy as yours but the other day, he came close. His hands are the same. I notice it when he plays video games on your computer. He very much appreciates the high-speed headphones you bought by the way. He’s able to drown us out easily. His hand arches over the mouse and clicks that obnoxious gaming keyboard in the same shape and fashion as you. Long. Slender. Determined to take down the enemy.
Sometimes when he laughs or says certain phrases, I can see or hear you. Some of it is his body language, the way his hands recoil to his chest when he cracks himself up, or how he “knife hands” us when we say something he disagrees with. His voice is deeper now and sometimes the two of you sound just alike. It’s a million little heartbreaks and a million little blessings every time I look at him and see you.
You’d be proud–or annoyed. Probably both. He’s such a sweet kid. His heart is still enormous and I can see how he is slowly coming into this new normal. I wish you were here to talk to him about stuff. I know the two of you had a complicated relationship, but I’m glad you were always able to just be yourselves with each other.
I have a lot more to say, but I know you know what’s on my heart, and writing to you is hard. It’s why I don’t do it very often. I just wanted you to know he reminds me of you. Every day. I miss you. Always.