Standing at the Threshold
A few years ago I found myself standing in my closet, madly searching for clean clothes in a last minute attempt to pack before yet another business trip, when I noticed my 4-year old son standing at the entrance. In one hand, he held a small blue wand, in the other — a plastic bottle of soapy water. “Dada,” he said, looking up at me, his eyes wide open, “do you have time to catch my bubbles?”
Time? It stopped. And so did I. At that moment, it suddenly made no difference whether or not I caught my plane — I could barely catch my breath. The only thing that existed was him and that soulful look of longing in his eyes.
For the next ten minutes, all we did was play — him blowing bubbles and laughing. Me catching and laughing, too. His need was completely satisfied. His need for connection. His need for love. His need for knowing, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that absolutely everything was perfect just the way it was.
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