I was cuddling with N again tonight. We didn't talk. I was troubled and we just lay there and I reflected on the events of the day, rubbing his back with a slow, half-conscious stroke. At some point I became lost in my thoughts and must have stopped rubbing. He wiggled around a bit to draw me back, and when that failed, he said "Daddy, can you please rub my back like you were doing?"
"Would you like me to keep rubbing your back forever and ever?" I asked.
"Uh-huh," he said into his pillow
"And would you mind if I kept telling you how much I love you over and over?"
"No," he said, "I love hearing anything my Daddy says to me."
A son is precious and fleeting. God forbid I neglect even a moment of gratitude.
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