Wistful, part 1

I saw a glimpse of the boy he once was today.  It may have been the way the toes of his left foot were lifted as he concentrated or the way his fingers scratched his head.  Most likely, it was a look that crossed his face reminding me of the innocent he used to be.  It was a flash of his former self that moved so quickly that had I blinked at that moment I’d have missed it.  I kept watching him, reading glasses perched on the end of my nose, hoping he wouldn’t catch me staring as I searched for that little boy in his face.  It was gone though and the man that he is becoming returned.  ​