four moments this week where i hid myself in a tissue pretending to be “post-sneeze” so that no one would notice i was crying.
- at the local 4-H show. little h ran into the first pen, straight up to a pygmy goat, and said, “hi, goat. hi! i henny. what’s your name?”
- this morning. hal slid open the back door and stood on the porch talking to a black-capped chickadee in the feeder. “hi, mr. chickadee! hi. come inside. come eat breakfast. mr. chickadee! you’re eating seeds. black seeds. mr. chickadee.”
- this afternoon. a land’s end backpack catalog arrived in the mail. backpacks. for school.
- in the hands-on museum. henry spotted a halved toilet fixed with plexiglas so kids could watch the water’s path after a flush. he sat next to the toilet for nearly a half an hour. “look, jessie. the water goes down this pipe. it goes through this hole! it goes through all these pipes. it goes out that little door.”
he’s not going to be this small forever, is he? and no one’s going to let me freeze time. no one’s going to keep henry a little boy delighted by everyone and everything. where does that freshness go?
I can’t count how many times I’ve felt that way this week. Every morning I leave for work and think, “I’m missing another eight hours of your lives.”
What a bright light he is! And there’s nothing wrong with shedding tears over the passage of time. I think that those who don’t now and then aren’t really paying attention.