Yesterday I was feeling sad. Over something really kind of silly in the scheme of things but nevertheless. Sad.
And lonely.
Braeden found me with tears in my eyes. He sat on the futon in our school room and beckoned me over. He wrapped his increasingly long arms around me. He had me tell him all about it. I did, with my head resting on his increasingly broad shoulder. Then I felt a tear drop on my forehead.
From my twelve year old boy.
For as long as I live and as much as that boy ever aggravates me, I'll remember that teardrop.
Because no one, except for maybe Mark, loves me that much.
1 comment:
What a sweetheart. . . and what a wonderful husband he will be someday. Sounds like he's learning well from that great-example-of-a-father he has.
Post a Comment