Fatherhood in a Moment

"That looks like a DadCentric moment," yelled my neighbor as he approached the fence.

"This?" I answered.  "This is a tax write-off."

"Or a Norman Rockwell painting," he added.

"All I'm missing is a pipe," I said. 

We chatted for a couple of minutes and I promised him that I wouldn't use his name in the post, what with the witness protection thing and all, and then I returned to the game of catch that I was playing with my 5-year-old son.

Catching was optional.

And it was that moment.  One didn't notice the lawn that needed to be mowed or that weeds had grown in places that might bring down the property value.  The leavings of three large dogs was not an issue.  Even my beer and sleeveless shirt could not mock the purity of it.

We discussed things that matter, like monsters and dreams and keeping your eye on the ball.  He spoke in innocence and I only heard metaphors. 

It was a father and a son and a game of catch.  It brought back memories I didn't know I had and it stirred things inside me that my son won't understand until he's wearing the big glove and shouting words of encouragement as a small part of him runs after another dropped baseball.  And the yard will be perfect.  And it will be a moment come full-circle, and maybe, when the ball lands snug in his mitt with the quick pop of seasoned leather and the scent of a warm summer evening, he will take a deep breath through a distant smile, and he will think of me.

Then the sun started to set and my wife came home with our younger boy and a bucket of chicken and we tossed the ball a few more times before calling it quits and going inside for dinner, baths, a story and the end of yet another day.

The night echoed with our laughter.