Saturday, June 7, 2008
Is it possible to permanently engrave a picture of a moment on the brain? I know I've tried to do it before, and always the image fades. But if I could fix a moment in time forever of how I want to remember my big bear as a newly two-year old boy, I'd choose yesterday afternoon. It was one of the first hot and sticky days of the year and I decided we should cool off by eating Popsicles outside in the shade. I dragged two chairs together and we sat down, barefoot, with a full watering can to pour on our feet. I took off big bear's t-shirt and he happily attempted to eat his very first Popsicle. Afterwards, his chest was a sticky red mess, so I poured the rest of the watering can over him, which of course he found immensely funny. He stood there on the walkway, laughing with his perfect teeth so white against his red-smeared mouth, slapping his wet skin, and then he started to pull on the baby belly fat peeking over his soaked shorts and the blue band of his Thomas Train underwear . He stood there looking at me, grabbing and pulling, grabbing and pulling, laughing, laughing, laughing at this new-found body part. I laughed too. Leaned back in my chair and laughed towards the sky, happy that this napless afternoon hadn't turned out so bad after all, happy that this boy and this moment we were sharing were mine, just mine.