The rearview mirror filled with his smile and a quick wink. And like that I realize he's growing. In a few days, my son will start kindergarten. A few blinks later, we'll be taking him to college. Leaps and bounds in measurements of gold stars and honor rolls. We'll circle the basepaths in baseball and life and soon, days like today, in all their perfect wonder, won't register.
Today, in a summer filled with unforgettable nights and days, is tied for first. It's rare for a 35 year old step from his office shell and dare a five year old to take him back in time, too consumed daily with the next task to take a step away and grab a handful of smiles. But as the rearview reflected his smile, it brought me solace.
There will be bad weeks at work. There will always be unanswered questions and an onset of disappointment. They disappear with a return to innocence. I've missed nights at home for work, nights where the unimportance resounds through me like a bell's toll. Too many to count and there's no real escape from it. Maybe someday he'll understand the only place I truly want to be is right now where the shine of his smile as the sunset glows on him fills my soul entirely. Maybe, when I'm gone from home, he'll remember today and days like it with that warm grin.
He charted our adventure. We climbed. We crawled. We laughed. And he smiled. I'll never forget that brilliance. How he saw his own sense of adventure hatch like an eaglet. His fears disappeared like smoke and grabbed mine in its departure.
He made me a child again, if only for a few moments, erasing my fears and worries and showing me the path I need to see.
He starts kindergarten soon. Yet he's the teacher.
