About a Boy

There is a corner of my mind that belongs to my son. It is where I retreat when the world becomes unknowable and I realize that I am just a single person on this planet. On those days, I need lessons in being small, fearless, and curious. So I get down on my hands and knees and crawl to where he is. And there, the world is big and full of amazing things, things that I don’t understand, things that do not frighten. Looking up into the universe, we lie side by side, and I am not alone. I’ve called this place a corner, but it is a galaxy. From here, we see everything, and the awe is never-ending. It is Star Trek level awe, set against the soundscape of furtive violins and noble horns. Every moment is the trumpet of a new day. I see him, learning at a rate that defies understanding, and I cannot imagine stewarding a machine with that much power. But I must. It is an honor. When I am in retreat, staggered by the vagaries of human failing, being with him, in his world, is joy. I am grateful.