He buried his head into my shoulder, hitting the tender part between the bone and the joint, the part I've worn thin from countless swim practices before him. It is all sweaters and fall weather outside and here we are on the couch watching the same movie for the third time. He is the only person in the world I would tolerate that from.
He wraps his arm around mine, a lazy smile evolves and...
"My mom is here."
And no moment in the history of moments, no words in the history of words has ever mattered so much.
If I could finish wiping the tears off of the surfaces that they fell on I could take him on the picnic I promised him.