Tuesday, December 17, 2013

Rainbows in the Sky

This is for the rainbows in the sky.

They often leave us too early, but when they do, the impact is known immediately like shock waves from an earthquake.

It's the rainbows with the contagious smiles and laughs and personalities that light up the room. The ones who make you feel at home the minute you meet them.

This one is for the rainbows in the sky.

There is never enough time with the rainbows in the sky. It's almost like they knew their time on earth was short so they packed their days full with life and love and happiness.

It's like they knew they would have to go too soon so they gave us every ounce of themselves until God decided it was time.

The Rainbows.

Monday, December 16, 2013

Watching you as a Father

I push the door open and peer in. I see the shadow of the chair moving slowly. I know you're holding him. I know you're rocking him to sleep. I know he is completely relaxed in your arms.

In his eyes there is no one in this world as amazing as Daddy. No one. Not Handy Manny. Not Grandpa. Not Spiderman, Superman, Batman or any other Man. In his eyes, Daddy is the greatest human to ever exist. In his eyes, you are a hero.

And I can see why.

I can see why he is comforted when you hold him. I can see why he lights up the minute you walk in the door. I can see why all of these things because I...

I feel the exact same way.

Sunday, December 15, 2013

A Little Secret

Just 10 days shy of Christmas, it's an important message.

Happiness isn't things.

The faster you can come to this realization, the more fulfilled your life will become.

Happiness isn't things. It never has been and it never will be. Things create clutter. They create a desire for more things and one day you'll be sitting in a house full of things and you'll realize they never made you happy.

Because, my dear sweet boy who plays with tupperware and small pieces of paper and trash. You are wise beyond your years to know that sometimes the box is more exciting than the thing inside.

Happiness is boxes and climbing into them and hiding under them. It's taking a walk with your grandpa. It's sitting on the ocean as the breeze wraps around you.

It's seeing a new place for the very first time. It's trying a new food you never thought you'd try.

It's hearing your favorite band live in a tiny venue in a tiny town.

It's sitting on the couch curled up in a blanket your Great Grandma spent 2 months making for you with her hands that are plagued by arthritis.

It's experiences and experience.

It's painting in the basement and walking in the paint and leaving tiny footprints everywhere. It's building lego towers and counting planes in the backyard. It's the way you feel the very first time you realize you love someone.

It's the way I feel when you say "I love you."

Happiness isn't things. You'll discover this for yourself one day. And when Christmas rolls around that year and people ask you want you want, you'll smile because you already have every thing you ever needed.

Friday, December 13, 2013

Just a Boy and His Mom

This is one of those rare nights. You sit in the rocker one hand tucked under my armpit, the other pressed firmly to your chest. I rub and pat your back just like my mom used to do. I can almost feel her doing it in a wooden rocker. I'm sure it wasn't comfortable. She didn't care. Your breathing is steady which screams good health to my active brain. You’ve been a little steadier since October 9 when they wheeled you in for tube surgery. That was a good decision.

It can wait. I tell myself. The pile of laundry that continues to grow halfway to the ceiling, the dishes that need washed, the dogs that need let out, the dog hair that needs swept, the kitchen that needs scrubbed, the TV shows that need watched. It can all wait because here we sit with only the light of the moon rocking. You are in a deep slumber now. I’m wide awake thinking about how good it feels to have you asleep in my arms. I’m wide awake thinking about what a miraculous creation you are. Half of me. Half of your dad.

You are miraculous. And to think, tomorrow you will wake up and squeal when I walk in the door.

And here I thought I’d never be a morning person.

Here we sit. Just a boy and his mom rocking.

Just a boy and his mom.