a lost journal entry from kaz’s da where he documents all of baby kaz’s little quirks but his favorite is that kaz first learns to love the world through touch; he relishes in the softness of blankets and flower petals and the fur of the barn cat, the scruff of his da’s beard and the rough patterns of the tree trunks surrounding the farmhouse, he digs his fingernails into mashed potatoes and egg yolk and frosted cake and laughs wildly at the bizarreness of it.
it’s funny, whenever baby kaz encounters something new, his first instinct is to reach for it with an open palm and bask in the feeling. his da and jordie have made a game out of finding the weirdest new sensations for him to judge: a cold glass of water, a kiss from the cat, bubbly foam, bread dough, a bowl of pomegranate seeds, an earthworm freshly plucked from the ground, the sinewy guts of a pumpkin.
he notices that kaz especially loves his and jordie’s hands—there’s a contrast between his own large, callused fingers and jordie’s smooth, lanky ones (save for a few scrapes and scars from climbing in places he probably shouldn’t have been), and it melts his heart whenever kaz holds onto that skin to skin contact and doesn’t let go.
it fills him with so much joy he decides that kaz’s touch must be magic, and he can’t wait to watch him fill up other people’s worlds with it as he gets older.
