No. 22: Fifty Yards


1-Fk8QWJDSmS0Rdy1qLkvwQA

My nine-year-old beat me in a running race.

We’ve raced before. The last time, when he was about six, I ran just slightly ahead of him, close enough so he felt like he was in the race and also close enough so he could pull on my shirt. But I never let him win. That felt dishonest.

Today when he said, “I’ll beat your butt,” I said, “No way.” I was confident even though he’s now almost five feet tall and I’ve been watching him bolt down the basketball court faster than all his teammates. But still, he’s a little kid. No upper lip fuzz yet. And every night when I tuck him into bed, he still hugs me way too long. (READ FULL ESSAY HERE…)

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

*

You may use these HTML tags and attributes: <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <strike> <strong>