December 31, 2016
Last June, in an Old Navy somewhere in Tustin, Brysen attack-hugged my legs and shouted "I got you!" with a mischievous smile. I will not forget that hug because he was holding on really tight as if believing that, indeed, he got me, and if he so decides, I wouldn't be able to get away from his grip. I remember him looking up with an expectant smile, maybe waiting for me to surrender. But I said, "No, I got you!" and hugged him. He squealed and was happy that I got him. I wanted to stay in that embrace.