Whenever I walk by the clothing section, I usually notice the baby clothes. It doesn’t really bother me, I expect them to be there and I still admire the cuteness. Yesterday though, this little brother outfit was hanging out in front, and sure enough it was size 6-9 months. I can’t not notice it and pretend it has no connection to my life, to my son who should be almost 9 months old. So I stop, took in the size of the shirt and pants, and tried to imagine what Finn might look like now wearing it. I don’t know if the overall feeling is sad in this case, but more so full of wonder about what might have been, that which can now only exist in the realm of my imagination. It’s like that feeling when someone tells you make a wish and you dream without the confines of reality. I have glimpses of his matured face in my mind often and I wish I could somehow photocopy them and fill the empty frames with smiling pictures of him staring back at me.