PEACEFUL

Addy’s.

Upstairs.

Wednesday, the first of June.

The boy sits. Silently. Staring ahead, eyes open but not quite fixed. His arms hang at his sides, then fold into his lap. His face is expressionless, peaceful.

“I’m sorry this is taking so long,” I offer.

“No problem,” he says.

As I finish my work, I steal glances of the boy. I wonder if he is truly at peace or simply calm in the way of early teenage despair. Asking “are you bored?” again would insult him.

I choose to believe him. And in doing so, my anxiety turns to love.

I want to keep him here, in this peaceful moment…forever. Tinkering away on my projects, the boy calm, cool, collected. Here…we are happy, healthy, and alive. Here…we disappoint no one, love everyone.

We want for nothing.

We are the father and son as fathers and sons were meant to be: abiding…together.