I love J names. I think they’re sincere and loving. I love all J names. James, Jonathan, Jordan, Jared. Joshua is no exception. J’s are special, like four-leaf clovers or a penny from the 1920s. J’s are like the first sunrise you ever took the time to watch, and the first birthday party you have memory of. I don’t think I could tell you why J’s are so special, but I can say this. Joshua is more special than any J. J is the seven wonders.

J’s broad lips are a wonder. I want to run my fingers along his lips like they’re the faded walls of my elementary school. His lips are like departing hills that roll on forever but stop just when they need to. His lips are swelling tides beneath a new moon, moving and swaying to make room for the crashing waves that wish to grace the shoreline with their smooth whispers. His lips ebb and flow as if there is something beneath the surface but what it is you’ll never know.

His voice is a wonder. His voice is all your favorite sounds played from the most enthralling instrument. His voice is the smooth thunder of a bowling ball rolling slowly down the lane. His voice swings through air like piano music in an empty room. His voice is lilting and will wrap around you when you need it most. His voice is the silent summer night that leaves hot bodies sleeping with no blankets and crickets chirping lazily as if they’ve got nothing else to do. His voice is the sail of ship when it begins to head home.

His eyes are a wonder. Sometimes you’ll lose track of their color because he squints when he smiles, and he is always smiling. His eyes wink when they need. His eyes are my sunrise, laced with lashes that extend further than any horizon could ever hope to do. His eyes are Super and see more than I. His eyes are lockboxes that only he can open. His eyes are the deepest lake and the most shallow pond, for they are what you need them to be.

His cheeks are a wonder. For they’re smooth as a desert in the night. They are smoothed by the kissing wind. His cheeks stretch miles and more miles with the ebb of his lips and the lilt of his tone. They are the wings of a bird that always chirps.

His hands are a wonder. His hands make music as if G-d has instructed them so. His hands write words that could push the peaks mountains to the ground and send a great lion to shame. If handed a hammer his hands could build temples to holy for G-d themself and too beautiful for the spirits to dwell. His hands build ladders the angels used to climb from Earth to heaven. His hands are hands for holding.

His mind is a wonder... for he hasn’t let me in. His mind holds more monster and mayhem then one would assume but his mind is no locked cage. His mind builds worlds from the foundations up and swirls cosmos no telescope could capture. His mind is a wonder for it is something not to be understood. His mind is a wonder for it leads his body to accomplish great things. It is a wonder for it finds a way to cross each bridge it comes to.

He is a wonder. He is a wonder for he is a puzzle made of exquisite pieces. Each broad smile and low sigh is a blessing and every thought is a new fascination. Every inch of his being from his hair to his toes is a wonder to be recognized. I must admit, to me, he is a wonder.