#perpetualfriendcrush

This is Wesley.

I remember the first time

I ever saw him

because he was wearing a yellow sweater

and it was a good moment

in my life.

Once he told us

about the small private school he went to
from kindergarten to twelfth grade.

When he started describing

the plaid ties,

I wanted to kiss his face.

Don't ask me why; I don't know.

But it happened.

But the reason I'm writing this

is not to reveal

that I've thought about

kissing him before.

So, ahem.

The reason is that
being friends with Wes
includes all the same emotions
as riding on a carousel.

A little part of you
becomes more alive
every time he talks to you.
.
.
.
I feel like I can imagine
how much care and love
our Heavenly Parents took
to create him.

It pleased Them
to make him so kind
and to give him the capacity
to think beautiful thoughts
and write beautiful words.
.
.
.

I'm convinced

that if you cracked open his soul,

there would be a butterfly there

or some other small, pleasant object,

like a little porcelain statue

of a cat

or a small array of dried wildflowers

preserved between the pages

of your favorite book.