Before He Could Ask

before he could ask

May 12, 2025

I want to know what his life is going to become.
Because I want to be here for it.
Because I want to stay healthy.
Because I didn’t grow up imagining this,
but now I can’t imagine anything else.

Every day, I study him
like I’m preparing for the biggest test of my life.
And I am.

I watch his fingers trace the floorboards.
I hear the sound he makes
when he discovers a new texture for the first time.

I see how he looks at the world.
Not like it owes him anything.
Like he was always meant to be here.
Like curiosity is enough.
Like being alive is enough.

I take pictures so I won’t forget.
But also for him.
One day, he’ll ask,
Who was I before I could ask?

And I’ll have something to show him.
Not a feed. Not a highlight reel.
Just the light on his face at 7:42 in the morning
when his own reflection made him laugh.

You don’t get to choose what their life becomes.
You only get to witness it.
And if you’re lucky,
you get to stay.

And if you’re really lucky,
you forget why you were tired.