Baylee was over three before he started speaking clearly enough for outsiders to understand him. The doctors were concerned and their concern turned into my concern, yet I didn’t lose sleep over it.
Why would he have to talk? He had three older brothers who understood his reaches and grunts, a mother who knew what he needed by looking into his baby browns, and an entire mourning community who doted on him. Eventually, he said words, and hasn’t stopped since.
It takes a village, right? Although much and most of our village from back then has dissipated and sprinkled itself throughout the world, heavens, and to other villages, those days are still part of our now.
What’s not ours now was still ours then, and I’ll take it.