It was the first swim of the season here in Utah. Franky was a little unsure at first. There were lots of kids running by and splashing us. His only other swimming experience was in mesquite and we pretty much had the pool to ourselves. But after a while he got into it.
And no, those are not my legs. Mattie got the sexy legs genes. I got the sexy..... well, I'm sure I was compensated with the sexy-something genes.
I have an awful little habit of checking on Franky multiple times after he goes to sleep. It wouldn't normally be so horrible except for the fact that the door to his bedroom is of the alarmingly creaky variety. It's nearly impossible to sneak a peek without waking him up.
But the other night I had made it past the groaning door without even a stir from the sleeping child in the crib. I stand over him in the dark and place my hand gently on his back, rising up and down in a slow, steady rhythm. And I stay that way for a long time, listening to him breath. And gradually I find myself overcome with a profound sense of how much love I have for this child. SO powerful, it's palpable, the heat pushing tears from the corners of my eyes and down my cheeks. And a prayer crosses my lips:
I hesitate. What do I TRUELY, HONESTLY want for my child. The world on a silver platter? A long life without injury or accident? Or something more?
"I don't ask that my son have an easy life. But I do ask that he have a good life"