I thought of my daughter today. My sons were there too. They were all young, still in their pajamas and they were all lying on the living room floor, coloring in their coloring books, watching Saturday morning cartoons.
I see all three of them clear as day. Two with wispy blond hair, the third with a ginger colored mop. I hear their giggles too. I can see it all in my head. I get on the ground and start to color with them. I seem to recall Spiderman was in my picture, but it just as easily could have been My Little Pony.
I remember the laughter and, most of all, the joy. Of course, they’re all three closer now to being grown adults than they are to those simple days of childhood. While wonderful memories, my favorite ones are of my kids today.
When I think of my kids most days now, I see them as they are. I see my daughter talking excitedly about the paper she just wrote on several of the women who’ve announced their candidacies for president and her own hopes and dreams.
I think of my son having lunch with my wife and me before he headed off to boot camp. I looked down to pick-up my fallen napkin and when I looked back up I saw a grown man looking back at me.
And finally, I think of my youngest son standing next to me in the kitchen. I look at him and it hits me like a brick in the face, I’m looking up. The boy who once couldn’t reach the glass cabinet is now taller than me.
I love thinking back to when my kids were little, but I love even more seeing the special people they’ve become.