More than almost anything, I hope my boy finds his people. The ones who accept him and love him unconditionally. The ones who don’t pity him. The ones who don’t merely tolerate him. I want him to find his people. The ones who think his love for animals is endearing. The ones who find his endless chatter about whatever topic that consumes him at the moment passionate not annoying. The ones who understand that if you need to cry, go ahead and cry. That’s an honest way to live. I want my boy to find the ones who love his messy hair, his belly laugh that can fix any ails of the world, his lopsided grin when he’s thought something naughty. I want him to find his people. The ones who are proud to call him friend; because when he calls you friend, it’s for life. The ones who aren’t embarrassed by his social awkwardness, the ones who don’t care that he’ll never be one of the “cool kids” or the jocks. I pray that he finds his people. The ones who save him a spot at the lunch table, that help him navigate tricky social situations, that encourage him to keep being the amazing kid he is.