He bounded off the bus from kindergarten today and into my arms.
“Did you know?” he asked, not noticing that my eyes were wet.
I gathered him close, squeezing his so-small-yet-so-big shoulders, smelling his honey-suckle hair, feeling his soft-as-silk cheek against mine. I felt the hummingbird-like energy that buzzes through him. I kissed his forehead and saw a flash of his dimple as he grinned. His joy, his dreams, his worries, his laughter, his curiosity, his innocence, his love, his potential. I breathed all of it in.
And I swallowed sorrow for all the moms who will never get that chance again.
“Did you know?” he asked again.
I shook my head.
“Eleven more days until Christmas!” And he skipped toward home.