A few weeks ago I drove 6 hours from work to be with my son for his knee surgery. A restless night of short sleep, we both woke up tired and anxious. After going through the inevitable paperwork followed by the stripping , gown wearing, and answering 40 times what knee was being operated on, my son received a nice dosage of anesthesia. A few minutes later I was called to his side.
While he doze in his sleepy induced state, I tried to find in that handsome face covered by the beard of a few unshaven days a trace of the little boy who held my hand while we drove in the car, the boy who fell asleep touching my hair and the toddler who yelled “pop it pop it!!!” when my silliness got too annoying for him. He is now a young man, I reminded myself.
Engulfed in my thoughts, I saw my son half opening his eyes, and fighting the blanket with clumsy strokes he extended his hand and reached for mine. He squeezed it gently, smiled softly and fell back to sleep. There it was, behind those thick eyebrows, my boy, my son.
When I allow myself a moment to reflect, I realize my life with my children have been filled with precious moments. All of them unexpected because no one can in a million years expect to deserve so much happiness.