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Jett Superior laid this on you on || May 1, 2006 || 7:25 pm

For the ends of Being and ideal Grace

“Momma, I’m sixty pounds. The doctor telleded me that.”

“Yes Mathias, I know; I was there.”

He ponders this for a bit. This is how he works…he processes things for a while; he links them up in his head and then says the most amazing things five, ten, even fifteen minutes later.

“Okay, when I am a grown-up, how much will I weigh then?”

“Well, based on Papaw Ben (his paternal great-grandfather) and Grandpa Mike (his paternal grandfather) and daddy, somewhere in the neighborhood of one-hundred seventy or one-hundred eighty pounds.”

“Seventy or eighty pounds?”

“No,” I raise my voice, because he is way back in the very back of the Magic Superior Stealth Vehicle, little moonface floating dead center in my rearview mirror, “one-hundred seventy or eighty pounds.”

“Oh.”

He seems satisfied with my answer, and we ride in silence for a good fifteen or so miles. It is a deceptive silence, making me forget just exactly who he is. I do this sometimes, because he is seven and seven is about pulling rubbery faces and whining in spite of yourself and never being able to keep up with anyone at anytime and ohgodwhydon’tIgetit??

He is different, and this is evidenced in the way he surprises me with his depth and breadth of thought over and over again.

“Mommy, when I am one-hundred and seventy pounds I will love you just like I did when I was seventy pounds.”

“Oh Mathias! And even when I am eighty-seven and you are sixty years old, you will still be my baby boy.”

This marks the first time I’ve ever pulled over a vehicle to kiss a child’s sweet face rather than tan his hide: I will never, never forget quite what this feels like.

1 worked it out »

  1. john 5.2.2006

    Heh, old softy I am. Can’t keep my eyes dry after reading that. Just beautiful. Just beautiful.

     

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