Light pours into Will’s room as he relaxes on his turf rug.
While most plants are still bare in early spring, the forsythia bush is in full bloom.
The grass turns from yellow to a deep green and Will gently plucks the blades.
Will wears our dad’s undergarments; he’ll fit into them soon.
Will stands between the yellow and purple flowers that grow on the roots of an old oak tree.
The buds of the red maple tree right after they opened.
My brother bites his nails, a nervous habit I also did when I was 13. Once the anxiety passes, he’ll grow out of it too.