Taken by Surprise

Yesterday Timothy asked if I would proofread his essay on the intersection of health and technology. It was a very good essay, but I had a few suggestions. So I called him over, and as he leaned over me I showed him some ideas on how he could bring together his thesis and concluding paragraph. All of a sudden, he leaned forward and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek.

And just like that I forgot what I was saying.

I have written before how the first time you hold a child in your arms--when it's just the two of you and the world is a far off place--is but a brief moment because you then spend the rest of your life letting go. In little ways (when a child begins to crawl or takes that first step) and in big ones (the first day of kindergarten or freshman year in college) you are watching them go.

As I am typing this I am all too aware that this afternoon, as soon as school is finished, Timothy will be taking the test for his learner's permit, which starts a whole new chapter in the art of letting go.

But then I think of that sweet kiss on my cheek. So nice. So unexpected.

And it's all good.