As he scrubbed the dirt from his knees and splashed about I tried to be discrete about wiping my tears. I was happy after all. I was fully aware of what a gift this was. Rarely, do we know when the last time for something is. Often we think we can’t wait to be done cutting the crust off, or tying the shoes, or reading the story again, but when we are no longer asked to do those things it strikes us how precious it was to be needed.
Last night was like replaying your favorite scene of a movie to absorb every last detail or hitting repeat on a song you just can’t hear enough of. Last night was a highlight reel of shampoo mohawks and pruny fingers. While I knelt there I didn’t give a single thought to anything else I should be doing, because now I know this is the most important thing there is.
I took inventory of his freckles. I studied the curve of his face. I poured handfuls of water down his back. I marveled at how big he’s gotten. I wished for a time machine.
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