Wednesday, June 20, 2012
I was lucky enough to have the rare privilege of experiencing something I'd experienced only once before in this life, tonight.
After an exhaustive evening of re-inflating the pool (I'm a Man... I refuse on general principle to follow any given instructions... hence yesterday's completely unexpected deflation of said procurement), patiently waiting for the low pressure spigot (I prefer "spicket" but whatever) to finally supply you two impatient, and supposedly sentient, beings with the liquid that you so desired in said containment container & enduring splash after splash (all unwarranted, unwelcome & most importantly, unexpected)... I am glad to say this sentence and this evening in general ended gloriously.
Let me frame it for you.
It's 10:20 PM. The fireflies are still out, oddly, and we're laying on our backs in the cool grass of an early summer June night. The sky has a few rogue clouds that begrudgingly wander by but for the most part it's wide open, unending and willing to expose itself.
The youngest of you has given up the collective ghost and wrapped his little 6 year old body into a convenient ball. The stray cat that once decided we were as good a place as any to squat, has taken up what must be (in her mind) the most dedicated of positions between said 6 year old and the 36 year old male who helped that very 6 year old "be".
The oldest of you is oblivious to all of this of course. She's still pointing out feint stars her Father doesn't actually know the names of and then scowling at him, in what can only be described as condescending judgement, when he invents (ie. Lies) their names and generally just makes shit up.
That's when the meteor happened.
In one glorious and unexpected moment, the oldest of you pushed (with valiant intent, might I add) against my chest, lower intestines, stomach & various other organs I probably need, headstrong into a standing position atop of my pelvic bone (and those various amenities that, for the most part, inhabit said region).
Arm outstretched, finger painting the trail of a little space rock that wandered too close, you exclaimed boldly & with complete absolution "LOOK DAD!".
I tried. The tears were making things blurry to be honest.
I like shooting stars too, baby girl. I do. I saw a bunch at that moment.
Of course that animated the wayward traveler that we like to call "Cali" who proceeded to invade the younger being's back & my arm pit with her (I just LOVE YOU evolution) claws.
Calamity. Just... Calamity.
I should really get to the point of this shouldn't I?
Once the excitement had died down and the younger of you two had returned to his humanityball pose, we settled once again into what can only be described as, well frankly, my telling you half-truths about the individual stars of which you inquired. And, for the record, I personally think "Michaelonia" or... "Paytonarnias" or... "Caydadon" are GREAT names for stars. I may concede "Michaelonia" sounds more like a disease but I digress. I thought the other two names were hard core.
I did my best, though, and I think I succeeded.
Want to know how I know?
Because after a little while, I felt the rhythm of your little body equalize. You hadn't fallen asleep on my chest while looking at the nighttime sky since you were around 4 years old.
You did tonight though... four years later.
I hope you remember this twice one day.
You & your Brother will never know how much I love picking you up and carrying you inside while you're sleeping.
It's puts all three D's in Daddy.