I don’t often get moments that take my breath away.
Well, I should qualify that. I’ve had them, quite a few in the last couple years, and most I’ve never detailed here. They’re too personal (and that’s saying something considering how much I tend to write here). But my son Noah really caught me the other day.
“I just think you’re pretty cool, Dad.”
“Really? That’s nice, Noah, why do you say that?”
He talked about my job, how I’ve done a lot of things, the stuff he’s heard me say on the phone to sources and I didn’t realize he was listening. He, for probably inappropriate reasons, thinks it’s awesome that when representatives of government are trying to spin things away from our stories I hold them to task and even raise my voice and fight back against their accusations. That isn’t something I’m proud of, by the way, but he seems to think it’s cool. He loves that his sisters remember my going to Israel on assignment and is fascinated by the picture of me with a reporter and crew of a C-17 that took us to Afghanistan and back.
That’s not what took my breath away, though. I look at those things as part of my job, I didn’t really choose to go into East Texas when the space shuttle crashed and I was chosen to go to Israel on assignment. I loved every minute, but it wasn’t all my doing.
“You just do so much for us, Dad.” He looked up and his eyes were bright. He talked about the dinners I made, the fact he has homemade treats in his lunches. School friends are envious of his lunch treats because he never knows what he’s going to take out. He likes that I make dinner most nights and we are adventurous . . . sometimes.
“I just think you do a lot, Dad, and I wanted you to know that’s really cool. I love you.”
It’s not often I am left speechless. I tend to be wordy and talk too much.
But this left me searching for words. So I gave him a big hug instead.
“I love you too, Monkey.”
The rest of the week . . . that’s a breeze.