A few months ago, Son #1 got up really early, around 5:30 a.m., and came downstairs in the middle of my ersatz-yoga, morning routine. It was a little chilly, so we got under a blanket on the couch and snuggled. Neither of us said a word. After a few minutes, Son #1 spoke, “Mom, do you see that angel over there?” “You mean the one on the lamp?” I asked pointing to one of the curved angels that serves as a pseudo-urn handle on the lamp base. “No, the real one standing in the corner,” he responded.
I whispered, “No Scootchie, I can’t see the angel but I’m glad that you can.”
Again, we were silent for a while and then he said, “Oh, it was your dad.” “What makes you say that?” “Because he just came and gave you a big hug.”
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