One Dozen

I had to schedule this year’s visit. For the first time, I had to put it on the calendar in my phone.

We came Sunday, a day early, technically speaking. I knew if I waited, the day, the week would get away from me.

Earlier in the day, I was scheduled to be on book for a JV basketball game at our school. This is the age you would be.

In a different life, you would be one of these boys. Probably on the tall side, possibly a little awkward and uncoordinated, like I was at 12. But serious, attentive to your coaches, and wanting to play well.

Or maybe you’d be a little more like your dad, more naturally athletic, and a bit of a clown, fiercely cheerful as you dribbled down the court.

I think you would tease your sisters; I think your little brother would idolize you.

I think; I wonder; I don’t know.

And… in a way, it’s okay. We come to terms. We’ve learned so much; we’ve walked so far.

And, yet.

I put a visit in my phone, just the same. Picked up flowers. It’s not for you; I know that, I have peace in that. It’s for me; a moment I need to steal, a moment that I need to remember. That I have four children, not just three.

“What are you thinking?” “Gotta feed the living.” “I prefer it that way.” Me too, my love. Me too.