52 Weeks of Brotherhood, Week 22
The minute hand whirs by all day long, constantly passing me as I race to catch up. I hurried down the hall, a thousand things on my to-do list and a million more on my mind. But something in my peripheral vision caused me to pause, pushed a button in my mind that slowed me to a stop and ever-so-slowly caused me to back up into the door of my youngest son’s bedroom.
There I found them, partially under the covers on a warm summer break day.
“What are you doing?” I asked, my eyes narrowing. Quiet, mostly still boys who aren’t arguing over whether or not to play Star Wars usually means someone — or both someones are up to no good.
They smiled up at me.
Someday they won’t cuddle. Even if they hang out with one another in close proximity, they won’t call it cuddling. Right now, however, they do. I smiled at them, suddenly not caring what I had previously been rushing off to do, to accomplish. I sat on the bed, relaxing back into a massive pile of stuffed animals, Toy Story characters and Angry Birds. I closed my eyes and listened to the giggles of happy brothers, of two that know each other so well — too well. I gave thanks for the moment, for the two of them, for the blessing that I have been given to be their mother.
And then someone farted.
Story of my life.