If I had brain cells to match my heart cells, I could write you a portrait of the five-year-old Akiva that would make you sing. I’ll just tell you that he is a boy who hears and makes music everywhere he goes. He pulls rubber bands across drawer knobs so he can play tunes on them. He drops things and then mimics the rhythm the bangs make. Where you or I see a wiffle bat, he sees a cello:
Or a trumpet:
Or a clarinet:
He knows a lot of things about a lot of things, not all of which are actually true. He mentioned the other day that we could use turkey bacon instead of pork in a particular recipe, “because everyone can eat bacon. Even Africans.” Because, actually, there are a lot of turkeys in Africa it turns out.
He can be stubborn and imperious, sure. But he is also capable of sweetness to take your breath away, and he has a great capacity for making peace. A grin from him lights the room, and when he snuggles with his brother, their mutual joy and love make life even more worth living.
He is a treasure, and I am lucky beyond words to be his mother.
He’s been quite camera-shy lately, and I was afraid I wouldn’t get a birthday portrait of him. Luckily he fell asleep early with the lights still on, so here he is in all his sweetness.