I carried my sleepy son back upstairs early this morning, his weight heavy in my arms, his skin smooth and warm, his legs dangling and his arms thrown around my neck. It's too early, I told him. I'm not ready to start the day, I thought to myself. And, you're getting too heavy for this, I thought. Suddenly I could see the way forward for my boy as easily as I looked back at my baby. A schoolkid, a teenager, a young man, a father. My heart ached a little as I layed him in bed next to his dad, man and boy, made of the same stuff. A window opened and the clarity of the view was breath-taking and beautiful. I'm still not ready to start.
No comments:
Post a Comment