4.13.15 Possibly never more than now

     The days pass quietly by, in a life quieter still.

     I sit with my son as we drive to visit my beloved, and watch him do all the things I did at that age, unbeknownst to him.

     We talk now and then, in precious bits, the side-by-side mode a precious thing for parent and child, with much freedom to just be, or to mention something on your mind.

     I tell him that his father and i became parents at his age, and he turns to stare at me, amazed. Laughs.

     I laugh too, seeing far into the past, how we manage, what we manage, how we learn slowly.

     We have a hard, beautiful visit, and then I sit in the Mexican restaurant he regaled to me, while he gets us lunch.

     We stroll through Brookline together, watching families and joggers and dogs drift past, til we begin our drive back to my home, and then he to his.

     There is so much here, in this life. This day. It is such a thing, to learn to feature what is most distressing, and let it have its necessary moment. Partly out of fear of suffering; in part out of a growing understanding of how things work.

     Near home, he is talking about situations in his life. About road rage. About learning to juggle huge work weeks and a new beloved.

     I put my hand on his arm, loving him so, possibly never more than now.

     I tell him I learned to choose to do what works.

     He glances at me, smiles.

     The late afternoon sun shifts in the sky overhead, as the traffic eases a bit, and we rumble on down the road.