Tuesday, April 11, 2017


Someday I won't have a boy in my house who, 
when I round the corner after coming downstairs, 
comes running out of my room with a mischievous smile.
And because of how he's acting, I think he's up to something -- he must have been in to something or doing something he wasn't supposed to.
So I ask him what he's up to and then call after him when he doesn't answer and runs upstairs.

And then I go into my room and see a huge tulip's head by my pillow, left there with a note.
And it says: 
Love you.

Someday, and someday all-too-soon, these days of legos and tween humor, ripsticking, chewing wads of bubble gum, and long conversations about life will be something in the past.

Someday he won't be here, under my same roof.

And so I smile today that he is, 
and that he's sweet and tender and funny. 
And I smile because he writes me notes I'll keep.

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