My sons lie sleeping together in a jumble of blankets and pillows and Legos and stuffed animals. Grey’s hand in sleep reaches out to touch his brother’s shoulder; a sleeping assurance that he is not alone. I know someday, perhaps soon, they will be too old and too self conscious for that shared jumble. But I can hope they will always be able to reach a hand to each other, to be sure that they are indeed not alone.
PS their grimace was for the flash disturbing their slumbers.
My Truant Pen 