I didn’t realize that the same instinct making me proud would soon make me wonder how much I had missed.
My son, Justin, is twelve.
He’s not one of those children parents describe as perfect while everyone who knows them quietly rolls their eyes. Justin forgets homework, leaves wet towels on his floor, and somehow believes empty cereal boxes belong back inside the pantry.
But he has a good heart.
I learned exactly how good this summer.
I looked out our kitchen window and saw Justin pushing our lawn mower down the sidewalk.
I didn’t realize that the same instinct making me proud would soon make me wonder how much I had missed.
A few days after school ended, I looked out our kitchen window and saw Justin pushing our lawn mower down the sidewalk.
“Where are you going?”
He stopped.
“Mrs. Hall needs help.”
When he came home an hour later, his shirt was soaked.
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