“These are the good ol’ days,” I thought
As sun invited a late winter’s walk.
A soccer ball in his hand, a leash in mine,
He slipped his free arm around my waist
to emphasize sweet declaration:
“It doesn’t get much better than a walk with your mom,”
And I thought, “Liar!” but in that moment he meant it,
So I believed it.

And it was nothing and everything and just quite enough.

Two on two and one on four
Breathless chatter, he matches stride to mine.
Peaks then valleys and level straights,
It strikes me funny that this is life.
A wayward sock, disagreeable and unimpressed with convention
Becomes the Princess and the Pea in my shoe.
Sitting, unlacing, irritated by interruption,
I’m amused, then impressed, how he makes it game,
Kicking his ball and patiently waiting.

And it was nothing and everything and just quite enough.

He sprints up the hill and I feel my age,
The gravity that gives him flight
is the same that holds me captive
and I try to remember when I stopped being able to fly.
As I reach the crest he hands me a gift,
Golden but without feature, the face of a dandelion.
He knows me well, he knows my heart,
how it dances to the music of his spontaneous generosity.
My smile and delight is reciprocal gift.

And it was nothing and everything and just quite enough.

We continue homeward and he leads an easy pace,
I marvel he has more words than me–
I never want this conversation to end.
Shadows follow, reluctant eavesdroppers
to secrets and stories worthy of their guard,
and suddenly, he darts ahead again,
Stooping once, then twice, then once more.
He stands triumphant, a victor’s carriage,
Eager, there’s no waiting in his telling:
With outstretched arm and open hand
stained in shades of little boy and grime,
He offers me a golden bouquet…

And it is nothing and everything and just quite enough.

Dandelion, little boy's dirty hand

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