all better

of all the times that i have kissed no. 1 after an injury, he has almost never not said "all better" in his cute little four-year-old voice. frequently, it is in an unsure, shaky voice wet with tears, like he's not fully convinced he's "all better", but he still says it.

i have just finished reading the five people you meet in heaven, and it has made me bawl and bawl, for lots of reasons, a couple of which i hope to tackle in a future post, but certainly not today. i wouldn't be able to read the screen for the tears.

i was trying to do it quietly, but it was as if a dam broke inside me, and great gulping sobs poured out of me like birds taking wing. no. 1 came over and asked, "wassa madder, daddy?" how do you explain to a four-year-old the intricacies of life? the strangeness of emotions? why daddy cries when he is happy and feeling purged and at one with the universe? why he cries so hard and heavy, as if some great demon within himself has been turned into saltwater and must be violently expunged?

"nothing, buddy. give daddy a hug."

he complies with a smile, and then impulsively kisses me.

i choke, gulp, and shakily say, with tears in my eyes, "all better"

darth sardonic