A whole decade with Siddhartha and it feels almost full circle. He isn't my baby anymore, he's more than our son. These days I find myself going to him when I need a certain type of comfort, the type when you just need to talk and know that someone will listen. The type of moment where a heartfelt smile means more than an answer. These days, my son Siddhartha, is more of a friend.
For anyone who knows him, genuinely, understands the way he is. He's easy. He's just there, at ease, warm and earnest. I admire his content. His willingness and his air, the one that reeks of: I've got it all under control.
He travels, leisurely. For him, gathering friendship is simple. He's cordial and natural, sort of a marshmallow kid.
Imagine having him on your team. Or being able to call him Brother.
We are blessed with a family full of so many adorable and majestic children. A jungle of laughter and light. Yet, so often in this house, life entwines, leaving us feeling like spiders, almost too close; standing out is not always an option in this lace of identity.
To me, Siddhartha is simple and free. His disposition is charming. With him, the air is always settled.
The other day, I asked him for words. Words that he would store for himself. This is what he shared with me:
the guy with a joke
He is one of those who are close to their core. My dexterous son.
Happy Birthday Siddhartha!