cardboard guitars

Tonight I saw my little boy fading away in a stolen moment.  I see the pride in each of his accomplishments close a chapter of innocence in the steps to becoming a man…or is it the loss of need, his need for me, his ‘Dada’, that saddens my heart. If I could stop the clocks…

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I held the cardboard guitar as he pulled a long elastic tight and fed it over the bridge then down through one of the holes he drilled, looped it round the paperclip on the opposite side and tied a double knot with his little fingers while I watched.

“Do you need help?”, escapes but really I am asking ‘don’t you need my help’.

“You can do one”, he says with a smile and my awkward fingers pull too tight snapping the end off the next elastic string trying to prove that I must be there to pull them tight.  Six strings later…I know. He doesn’t need me.

A day earlier I danced and spun circles with my little girl on the shaggy coffee-tableless rug in the living room.  “Again Dada, again…” Round and around, back the other way, and falling to the floor laughing before we stopped for a drink of water.

I see him in her eyes and pick him up off the couch, and swing him too, and laugh and hold him close and kiss him goodnight…and no, I don’t ever want to say, ‘while I still can’.

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This entry was published on January 29, 2013 at 12:51 am. It’s filed under Life, Love, Uncategorized and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

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