It's nearly 1pm and my youngest son is still asleep. Curled up in his bed, he looks far younger than his ten years on the planet suggests. His hands open and close and I don't know what he's grasping for.
I know what I want.
I want to send him in the world and be unafraid.
I also know this will not happen. Oh, I will send him in the world, there is no choice about that. But I will be afraid.
Last night, he was at a friend's 10th birthday party. A sleepover. He packed his sleeping bag, his MP3 player (a thoroughly modern boy of the digital age), his gameboy, his favorite stuffed animal.
I thought I might get a call in the wee hours that he wanted to come home.
The call came at 6 am. The kids were playing outside, running around. He fell and broke both his front teeth. Permanent teeth.
I'm waiting for him to wake up.
Then I'll wait for the dentist to meet us at the office.
Then I'll wait for my heart to stop feeling so vulnerable.