Time

One of those tiny dots is my son, at Saturday morning football. He's been looking forward to it all week. At this point he's excited, talking to his friends. In a moment or two he'll turn to me in tears, and run back over to me, and not let go for the whole hour. He's not ready, and that's fine by me.

Timing is a bit if a mystery to me. When it's right, it's right. And I can't control it. Sadly.