Owen and I pick up Matthew from basketball. After, we keep to our dinner planning: asparagus, fancy full-size potatoes that sell by the ones instead of bags.
Had a big day and moment of acknowledging too. We were searching for Montreal Steak Seasoning and couldn’t find it, knew we were close and in the right aisle. Finally, Matthew found it, but only a small jar. We wanted the BIG one—we go through it.
“Matthew, do you think you can check and see if it’s above?” I ask.
He finds it! And we celebrate.
“Forty-one years (of my life), and we finally have someone that can see the top shelf of spices in the grocery store!”
Matthew is the hero, and a lady somewhere between my age and my folks’ laughs in watch of our celebrating. Forty one years, we never knew what we were missing (or couldn’t find) but now we do!
We are a fortunate family. Matthew has broken our 5’10” glass ceiling—and shooting through.
Something in his day is bothering him. He wanted to pitch when we got home—throw off some steam—but it is dark when we get home. He doesn’t want to talk about it, and I don’t pry; but back to the house, I seek him out and tell him that I love him.
A lot of growing up, we have to learn and figure out ourselves; but it’s nice too to know we’re not alone; and even if it’s something we must do or learn alone, there is something to knowing we are loved and cared for still—even when we’re down.
“Thanks Dad,” he tells me after, “I needed that.”
Maybe I can’t “help,” but I can “care;” and so I do. Forty-one, I’ve learned that too.
I put the baked potatoes in; make a pan of bacon wrapped asparagus and crab stuffed mushrooms to throw in later.
Forty-one—we are celebrating with top-shelf feast!