THESE SIMPLE, PERFECT PLEASURES


awaiting at home.

There are some moments -- like, say, a rainy morning under the covers, or a sunny afternoon at the beach, or a moonlit night under stars -- when you'd give all the money you've ever made in the world, and all the money you'll ever make again, to be able, just that once, to reach out, wrap your hands around your life, and be able to stop time, to freeze any and everything else around you, just to keep and hold and dwell in those precious few seconds, until, as if this were even possible, you grew tired of their simple, perfect pleasures. Most of the time, you see them coming. But sometimes -- like, say, on a lazy Sunday afternoon, when your seven-year-old lies down on the sofa and lays his legs across your lap, when he smiles and says, Thanks, Dad, and returns to playing his GameBoy, while you run your fingers across the gentle flesh of his shins and look out the window at a sky turning slowly blue and cloudless -- you don't. And they are the ones, with their startling joys and beautiful rewards, that make you ache all the more.

Posted: Sun - July 29, 2007 at 06:11 PM          

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