I don't know how much time passes with us just lying there, just feeling that the other is really there, really true, really alive, feeling the safety of him, his weight against mine, the roughness of his fingers touching my face, his warmth and his smell and the dustiness of his clothes, and we barely speak...

In this world of numbness and information overload, the ability to feel, my boy, is a rare gift indeed.

A memory is not the thing remembered.