Burning the memories...
This morning Kevin happened to be up and Dalton was thrilled to have Daddy waking him up today. Not that he doesn't enjoy his morning ritual with mommy but it's special when Daddy can do it, coz he never does.
Dalton always wakes up in a happy mood. He's like me - ready for the world although needing some quiet time before taking it all on. Today he was so happy that Daddy was there to wake him, he got up, made his bed, dressed, did his bathroom thing, ate breakfast and was so happy! We ate together, Dalton and I, and talked some. We chatted about his day, what he likes most about library day and what he wanted to play today at recess. You know, all those REALLY important things to six year olds. I gave him a choice of who he wanted to walk him to the bus (without of course Kevin knowing I'd asked that question - bad wifey). Of course, he wanted Daddy.
Reluctantly, Kev got his shoes on and announced they'd be driving to the bus stop (he works outside all day long, I don't know why walking half a block to the bus stop was so much more cold than work but hey - it's his bones). Dalton changed his mind. "Noooo, I'll go with Mommy." Now I gotta say, I think DRIVING half a block and sitting there in the truck was excessive, but I didn't say anything. I said, "No baby, spend some time with Daddy."
"Noooo Mommy, I don't want to sit in the truck. I want to play with my friends and show daddy I can walk on the wood."
So, man got his gloves and agreed, albeit with reservation, to walk to the bus. (His gas tank and our budget are thanking him by the way.)
Now, you know how you see a man holding his baby and the baby looks so small and the picture always catches your breath? How seeing the love in the glances shared between the big huge daddy compared to the tiny sweet newborn always brings a sigh? Well, this is how Dalton still looks at and with his BIG HUGE Daddy. It doesn't matter how tall Dalton is (he's already 4 feet tall at 6 years and three months). His father is 6'4" tall - TALL. So Dalton is dwarfted by his daddy. To see him take his daddy's hand and walk down the street together... well, it catches in my throat. It's precious. And it's not often that daddy and son share these kinds of moments so it's especially nice. My heart is melting as my hand is reaching for my camera.
Pushing the button, squeeze the shutter...
Beep - Low Battery! And off it goes... shuts down... dead as a doornail... no batteries in sight and not enough time to get them in the camera and catch the shot anyhow.
Why does life catch us off guard like that? The lumps in the throat at such simple but precious sights and the inability to capture them "for all time". I suppose that's what memories are for. To make that indellible print in our minds. To record the memory and burn it onto a plate to be stored in some miniscule file cabinet in our heads.
What happens when those file cabinets start to fail? What happens when your mind stops being able to burn memories onto little little tin plates? That's why I wanted that picture. So I could scrap it and 20 years from now, when my memory has failed me, I have that precious memory to look at and remember. When my son is holding his newborn child in his arms and he's looking quite a bit like the giant his daddy looks like today, I want to have that memory to look at and cherish.
Tomorrow, I'll have my camera charged and ready - now let's hope I can coax the man into taking the child to the bus tomorrow... wish me luck!