So many things happened this year for you.  You learned more than I can recount, you felt more, spoke to more strangers who never really were strange to you, and generally made me question how the world is so wrong that you cannot keep exactly that posture, the one with so little suspicion and fear and distorted curiosity.  You made me question my own hardness, that sinister firmness that has deep roots in whatever is my past.  You redeemed little bits of all that, you and your smiles and the way you periodically ask if I’m happy or the way you tap my bald spots in the bathroom and question why there’s no hair there or the way we spend time pointing out fire trucks and police cars.  You are a blessing.  You are an undeserved gift.

Uncle David, move the camera, so I can blow out my candles.