Elliot is FIVE.

My little hurricane babe,

Watch out for the rain...

the forecast is bad,

dire they say--

doom and gloom,

doom and gloom.

Devastation,

life will never be the same.

Just try to pretend

that it's all normal, sane, whole.

Day by day,

hope upon hope,

rays of light from your

roving eyes,

with optimism gripped

in your left fist,

Don't you dare f-ing count me out.

I am here.

I am.

I can.

My lover boy,

my smiling fighter,

you pulled us out 

from the wreckage of our fears,

and showed us the promise

of determination.

One rainbow at a time, 

you showed us 

new colors

that other eyes could not see,

we heard new music

in the stale everydayness of the grind of this world,

the dirge became

a second-line

of love and joy--

a long line

of people

with you at the helm, 

leading us to 

the promise land.

The promise land which is You...the fulfillment of the promise of you.

Elliot.

You glorious, glorious boy. 

Thank you.