There is no poetry or cleverness in saying that my heart is full and brimming to my eyes with love for my boy and his son who are here in Two Dot. Just now, in the early morning, they are working out in our schoolyard. Bryan, who is strong and disciplined, hoists himself on the swing set bar and Ben, who is young and eager to imitate his dad, tries to do the same. I can’t stop crying both with love for the two of them and with longing for my own parents... to be in the thick of so much love. But when you are in the thick of it, you never really know what you have. It is the prerogative of the old to see that. I think there is no one left on earth that I could tell this story to and expect complete understanding. Only my mother would cry with my happiness, with my fullness.
Four days with Ben, 7 years old... a magic year. Is it too soon to write down the details? Will it inspire another plate of tears.
Some of the best experiences leave you crying, leave you aching in your middle chest. The transition from experience to memory can be painful. Both can be full of joy, but the space in-between is colored by a hazy sky, an empty bed, and indeterminacy while one thing tries to become another.
