A Silent Reminder
With the apartment quiet, and deeply involved in whatever I was doing at the computer, there was a certain diligent peace to the morning. It really hadn’t been long after my wife and son had left for work and daycare respectively but I had moved into my frame of mind needed for the tasks I wanted to accomplish that morning. I was trying to make the most of my time between jobs, alternately completely relaxing and attempting to make headway in a few projects that had been on the backburner for far too long. But when I got up out of my chair and turned around to get something I was completely snapped out from where my head was at, I was thrust instantly into the singlar fact I had a son. A child. That I am a father. The visual of my son’s toy, sitting there on the rug in that shaft of light, went directly to my heart and the huge amount of love I have for him, my wife, and by extension my family. It’s a simple child’s toy, a wooden lion wearing a green helmet with wheels for feet and string to pull it (that of course he likes to chew on at the moment rather than use to drag it around), which harkens back to a different era a few generations ago maybe. Its presence there, alone in the room, hit home. Sometimes we need a reminder to stop and pause, to think, digest, and reflect on what we have. I spent a good while just sitting on the couch doing that.