Words That Capture a Lifetime

Watching Wally grow up has been like watching a beautiful photograph develop slowly in the darkroom. I remember when he was little, he'd follow me around the house asking a million questions about everything I was organizing or filing away. Now at fourteen, he's become this thoughtful young man who still comes to me when the world feels too complicated, but he's also teaching me things—about music I've never heard of, about apps that could help me organize better, about seeing the world through fresh eyes. What amazes me most is how naturally he's stepped into being a big brother to Timmy. I catch him humming lullabies when he thinks no one's listening, and I see him watching over Thommy with this gentle protectiveness that reminds me so much of Harry at that age. Wally has this incredible ability to be both strong and sensitive, and I'm so proud to be the aunt he trusts with his secrets and dreams.

Wally is hands down the coolest kid I know, and I'm not just saying that because I'm his uncle. This kid gets it—whether we're talking about the latest game, debugging code together, or dreaming about converting a van for the ultimate road trip. What I love most about Wally is that he's not trying to be anyone else; he's figuring out who he is on his own terms. Our coding sessions have become these amazing conversations where he'll ask me about independence and responsibility, and honestly, he's teaching me as much as I'm teaching him. He's got this quiet confidence that reminds me of Harry, but with this creative spark that's all his own. Watching him with baby Timmy has been incredible too—seeing him discover this protective, nurturing side of himself. Wally's at this perfect age where he's still curious about everything but starting to form his own opinions about the world, and I can't wait to see what kind of man he becomes.

Fourteen years ago, I held this tiny person in my arms and wondered what kind of man he'd become. Now I watch Wally in the workshop, his hands steady as he learns to use tools that once seemed too big for him, and I see glimpses of the answer. He has his mother's artistic eye—the way he notices details others miss, the way he can see beauty in ordinary things. But he also has this quiet strength that runs deep, just like the oak we use in our projects. What makes me proudest isn't just his skills or his grades, but the way he's embraced being a big brother. The gentleness he shows Timmy, the patience he has with Thommy as he settles into our family—these aren't things you can teach. They come from the heart. Wally is becoming his own person while staying connected to what matters most: family, integrity, and the understanding that real strength comes from caring for others.

Oh, my dear Wally. You look so much like your grandfather at fourteen—the same thoughtful eyes, the same way of listening more than you speak. I've watched you grow from that curious little boy who used to help me in the garden into this remarkable young man who still comes to sit with me on the porch, even when your friends are calling. What touches my heart most is seeing how you've embraced your role as big brother. The way you hum to baby Timmy when you think no one's watching, the way you quietly include Thommy in family moments—these are the actions of someone with an old soul and a generous heart. You're at that beautiful age where you're discovering who you are, but you haven't forgotten where you come from. Keep that balance, sweetheart. The world needs young men who can be both strong and gentle, both independent and connected to family. You're going to do wonderful things, and I'll be here cheering you on every step of the way.