"If you want," Jack says, "you can hold this and look at it." He plunks a black pocket knife on the couch arm. Folded up like origami but, long, heavy and smooth, I pick it up with fingertips.
"Thanks," I say. He grins, arms crossed over his bear chest, hands in his armpits. He unholsters his hands and shows me a small knob on the blade. Just the right stroke on the knob, and you can pop the knife open with one finger.
"Wow," I say, secret knowledge swelling between us. I fold the knife down to its smallest footprint and tuck it's stone-weight in my palm.
The evening whirlwind at hand the children rampage the rodeo loop from old wooden chest at my feet 'round the kitchen, down the hallway, through the labyrinth of jammies, toothbrushes, and clothing that's hopefully tossed in drawers. We set a ten minute timer for all elbows, knees, and shoulder to heap in neat mounds for evening prayer.
"Here," I say as Jack reappears, "I better entrust this back to you." His pocket knife warm and weighty still in my hand, I offer it out into the space between us. "Thank-you," I say.
"Sure," he says, a calloused hand already encircling the knife shell. "Now, you know how to open it with one hand," he says. He winks at me. I smile. Something of immense value exchanges there. And something very other stands before me, masculine. I stare, the difference so pleasant.
Gratitude:
6003. Jack turns 10.
6004. We find a CAR to fit our growing family. Craig begins to mastermind the car retrieval: El Paso, Texas.
6005. Craig comes into a steal on hardwood flooring remnants and writes up plans for a new family table.
6006. New essential oils; ginger, marjoram, and lavender.
6007. A doctor check reveals baby boy is doing well.
6008. Craig gets a new shirt.
6009. The garden finally squeezes out a few tomatoes of various varieties.
6010. New bathmats.
6011. Barbecued hamburgers.
6012. New balls of yarn.
6013. Craig and Jane build a Lincoln Log tower. It measures out at four inches from the ceiling.
6014. A spatula to replace the broken one.
6015. We find the last of dregs of summer sopping up well with school prep. We await the first day with anticipation.
6016. Craig helps me rearrange the studio.
6017. Peace settles over the house. We enjoy the play; we prepare for work. Contentment.
You capture the nuance of a boy turning into a man. Not many value manhood these days...it is overlooked entirely in the face of feminism. Oh may these boys of yours become mighty men. Tis a good good thing.
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