I took Austin and Asher (Cozy and Blue) to the tennis court yesterday. Austin zoomed around maniacally on his little car and I rode Austin's long board while Asher cooed at us from his seat in the middle of the court. When Austin and I would ride to the other side of the court, Asher would protest violently until we came back to orbiting around him and he was assuaged. Austin and I threw the football until he decided to teach Asher how to high five. Having quickly grown dissatisfied with Asher's apparent stubbornness, he went back to hurling the football in my general direction. I loved it. I relished in it. It was almost perfect; I was just missing one of my boys.
Aiden is perfect now. I miss him so much, but am so taken with the vision of him breathing deeply. I ache to hear his perfect voice. What does it sound like? What will he say to me when I see him someday? What will his first words to me be? Perhaps just "Dad," with a smile. That would be enough. I think I may just be too captivated with the sight of my boy in all his glory and the sound of his voice in all of his healed state to actually comprehend what he says; too enamored with the fact that he just spoke to me at all. For all of our adventures, it is we living who are missing out. Here's to the sunrise; to the day our family of five is together again one day. May you be caught up in that inconsiderately violent hug at our reunion having given your life to Christ and therefore by God's grace been brought to heaven for eternity.
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