I laugh and his smile tips up into something beautiful. It’s a moment I want to stamp into my soul for the nights when I feel a little bit lonely and a lot bit sad. I take in a deep breath and hold onto the moment. The pinks and purples that cast his face half in shadow, the pull of his sweatshirt across his chest, his socked feet creaking the aged wood of my front porch. The magic is in the details, my mom always used to say. And these details are perfect.
