A Moment

There are some moments in time which catch my heart.

It's unexpected, a piece of the action which brings me back 30 years in one glance.

He's four and a half helping his 2-years-younger-the-same-age-as-FlapJilly-right-now into The Golden Nugget on Clark Street.  We were breakfast regulars; Big Cuter knew just how heavy the front doors could be. 

 Can you feel the proprietary nature of his relationship to the door and the little girl?  

He's balanced and careful and nurturing and allowing her to feel as independent as she'd like to be.

That worked for his sister and it works for his niece.  

Still, his hand is quite firmly ensconced in her tiny pink mitten; she's cocky but not stupid, after all.

I can't stop looking at it.

It's the wallpaper on my smart phone. 

His holding the door below the push plate so that FlapJilly wouldn't have to lean.

He's keeping it all accessible to her, down at 3 feet above the ground.

She's small and she's sturdy and she's his responsibility.

There is no doubt that he takes it seriously.

Yes, probably, I am making too much of this.

But when one is suffering from family-withdrawal-after-the-holidays, one tends to obsess.

Just a little.