Charlie and I were walking home from his friend Alec's house last night. Something we have done, seemingly a million times, since they first became friends in kindergarten. The sun was setting, interior lights were on, and one could get a glimpse of the life going on behind the windows of the houses in our neighborhood.
The grass is that green that it only is in the springtime, intense and lush, after the drab browns and grays of winter. The buds are a gentle fuzz on the tree branches, gathering energy to burst into full leaf, so very soon.
Charlie and I were chatting, when he suddenly burst into a sprint, and ran ahead of me down the pavement. I stopped in mid-step, it was one of those moments, those images that burn into your mommy brain. I closed my eyes, and saw him toddling down the sidewalk, all chubby knees and elbows, on a spring day after he had learned to walk. It went so fast. Did I cherish it? Will I always remember it?
Fast forward, and he will be as tall as me, lanky and walking confidently, not needing his mom to hang out with him any longer. And he will be in front of me, and I will follow from a discreet distance, and remember.