A Moment

It was a moment with one of my kids that I thought I would not have for many years.

It was just the two of us, Aidan and I, sitting in the early evening twilight at my patio table, nibbling on fruit and cheese, each engrossed in our respective books; Aidan's, a book about World War One and mine a book about the 1964 major league baseball season. Each of us, quietly enjoying each others company, communing with one another without saying a word.

Such quiet moments are rare. The last such moment I had was in March, the day after my return home from a brief stay in the hospital and prior to that, during a particular day last July. To quietly sit with someone, dozing or reading, without speaking and yet be completely comfortable in that silence is a unusual sort of intimacy that is seldom recognized as such. Such moments, by their very nature are shared with someone special, are rare and are to be prized and treasured, especially when spent with one's child.

So nibbling on cheese, munching on fruit, and drinking bubbly water, Aidan and I quietly read. After about forty five minutes Aidan put down his book, stood up and said "well...that was nice..." and jogged off to shoot baskets.