As parents, it’s easy to carry weight where our children carry joy. His speech often gets lost in the neurological highway from brain to mouth. A muddled mix of consonants where words should have been. A kind professional reassures me. With much work, he will eventually get what comes easy to most others. And still here we are every morning. Kissing brothers off to school and diving right into our day. Building cities. Turning pages. Parking cars. Paving roads. Who needs words when the world is your oyster and love is spoken in magnetic shapes and metal trucks? I look at him as he lines his car ever so carefully next to mine. And turns his face toward me. I wish for more words I could understand. He smiles easily. And means it. The communication — It’ll come, they say. I smile. Maybe it already has.