Heh

What is it like to be loved

The question came up, earlier in the day. A piece of writing that spurred the conversation. A question, worth exploring, huddled in the back of my mind.

You ready buddy? 

Just a minute, Papa 

He hollers down the stairs 

I run hot soapy water over the dishes, turn off the lights in the kitchen, and sprint up two flights of stairs.  I hear his toilet flush and realize he’s not ready yet

I’m gonna floss. I’ll be there in a minute

As I’m wiggling the string between my teeth, I don’t hear much movement from his side.

He’s almost a teenager, yet still asks to be tucked in.

And I realize

That I, too,

still like to be tucked in. It doesn’t happen as often as it used to, but it still does.

And I still like it 

I turn off the light in our room and sneak across the hall when I realize that something’s up

Light in the bathroom is still on

Light in the room is still on 

There’s not a sound to be heard 

Hijinx are afoot

As a result, the foot is not where it should be.

I peer at the lump under the covers, and recognize something is not quite right.

He’s doing the thing again, where he parks his head at the foot of the bed and his feet near the pillow. But disguises his bed to look like all is as expected.

He thinks he’s super deceptive at this point.

I can imagine his thought process all too well.

I too, am a fan of hijinx, tomfoolery, and shenanigans.

Normally, I either crawl in beside him, yawning loudly, and throw my arm around where his neck should be

or alternately, I just pile onto the bed and wonder loudly “where’s R? I thought he was supposed to be in bed!”

But this night, I just simply lift up the covers and expose his freshly showered, wet but just-combed hair.

He’s half disappointed, but mostly mostly delighted. He chuckles and says Papaaaaaa with a groan. 

That’s when I realize I’ve forgotten something in the other room.

I’ll be right back

It takes a couple minutes and I return.

And, this time, yet again, I don’t see his head peeking out from under the covers.

He’s tried the same trick a second time. The double whammy. The double crossing double cross.

Rather than get into bed and do my usual, I yank the covers straight up in the air. An even louder groan this time.

And then he bursts into laughter

and laughter is contagious. 

I burst, too 

It’s unbridled 

And pure 

The joy that we share together.

Laughter really is good medicine.

It wraps around us, as we wrap around each other. Sharing a hug and a moment of joy after a long day. 

We shake with giggles for a couple minutes and then we finally settle in

His breathing slows, and he rests his head on my chest.

And I remember what it is like to be loved