“Tomorrow never comes. . .” They say..”. “I say”. . .Or perhaps the things we don’t say, because the words never come.
My son still grabs my hand, sometimes, when we walk. We still blow kisses through window panes. He still rests his head on my lap. He still never listens, but yet yells spontaneous “I love you(s) over his shoulder as he leaves to meet neighborhood friends.”
We still believe in the magic of the world. . .
When he lost his first tooth, we received a confirmation text from the Tooth Fairy. Aaron took it as an invitation to negotiate the value of his tooth.
We make sure each cloud resembles a character, after all, “the sky is one big comic strip,” he says.
We live in Terebithia, explained by Black Cat Queens, sidewalk portals, invisibility capes, wind chimed Troll voices.
It’s easier to be present today, than to wait for a day that may never come. . .