The Small Things

Micah and I had lunch at Subway. We shared a footlong. I got extra onions on his half, because the boy loves onions. He picked them off and ate them plain.

Micah spent his meal vacillating between concentrating on his food, and people watching. The man that came in and went to the restroom before ordering definitely broke protocol. He deserved to be growled at. The lady with the Farrah Fawcett hair garnered a wide smile, and he had to pat my arm to direct my gaze in her direction. He missed nothing.

I spent the meal watching Micah.

We parked behind the speech therapy building and walked up through the parking lot. Micah discovered the joys of fallen leaves. They crunch when you step on them. They are glorious to kick. They are the best for shuffling through. He slowed his pace to extend the fun.

I slowed so that I could walk just behind him, watching.

Because he missed school the day before, Micah insisted on standing in the driveway waiting for the van to come for ten full minutes this morning before finally deciding that it might be alright to wait inside where it was warmer. For a boy who fought school for three long years, this made me smile from the inside out.

I waited patiently in the cold with him, listening to him talk about things and watching him make elaborate hand gestures.

Sometimes it's the small things that make the biggest impact. Sometimes seeing the world through the eyes of a child is the best way to see it. Sometimes I need to learn from my children how to live life to the fullest.