“Mom, can you do something with me tonight?”
“Do something? Like what?”
“I don’t know. Like… something.”
“You mean you don’t want to read tonight?”
“O.k. But you want to do something… after you read?”
“Just me and you?”
Current event summaries to look over, clothes to fold, a knitting project that’s been calling my name all day. But this boy is nine. Yesterday, he was four. And tomorrow he’ll be 18.
And those eyes. Those big brown eyes that sparkle when he comes to me, still so sure that I am the source of all fun and comfort. He wants me.
“Get the UNO cards. Let’s play,”
So we play. We play four hands, and I win all but one. But instead of being dejected or put out by the way the cards fall, he is laughing and bubbling over with the kind of joy that I don’t want to forget.
The to-do list can wait. The long day, the threatening headache? It doesn’t matter. The chance to do something, to really do something… it’s precious. I’m glad I had the chance.