Those Moments

I picked the Boy up from school yesterday. It was cold out and in the closing darkness of the winter afternoon he played with the other kids on the playground. Bundled in a new, fuzzy, brown fleece and climbing on the monkey bars with his back to me, he had the appearance of an awkward bear cub. 

I watched him as he alternated between concentration and laughter, maneuvering through the metal rungs. He was as happy as any person has ever been and I felt that never distant, but sometimes ignored, deep feeling in the pit of my stomach that is warm and overwhelming and knee-buckling. 

 When he finally turned and saw me he grinned and leaped from the bars. He raced to me and threw his arms around me, embracing me tightly and yelling, "Daddy! I missed you." 

 There are battles to come that will make the daily skirmishes over bath and bedtime pale in comparison, but moments like that one make my life ideal right now.