I don’t know how to explain it or you. I’m dumbfounded.
You’re 5 years old and change. Sometimes you have the auditory sensibilities of an 80 year old Roadie who traveled with the Stones but “never could afford those ear plugs”. But sometimes, you demonstrate the auditory acuity of Superwoman wearing Miracle Ear.
The best part? Those often toggle on and off as personas in the same conversation.
But I’m here to write for you today because there are times when I do just feel. Heavy. Old. Dragging. Barely carrying my own weight let alone being able to pick you up when you want.
And the most magical sound and the most magical face for me is yours, in that moment. When literally not a soul is attuned to my self-awareness of my own inabilities, and life is just moving forward — Godspeed – life is just accelerating like Cole Trickle on a comeback lap.
When literally, that’s the scene, and the studio audience is waiting for a feeling.
You step in.
And make eye contact. It’s one of the times you treat me like you treat everything else you focus on, and nothing else matters. You drop your fork. You drop your crayon. You drop your dolls. You drop your interests.
And you look at me and you keep saying “Buhboo” until I look back.
And then you drop it like Thor’s hammer.
“I love you.”
And with that, my wings have wind.
You’ve done that to me since you were born, Buhboo. With your actions (when I was stressed and needed you to chill or sleep or stay asleep, you magically did), and now, with your attention.
Thank you, Buhboo. You heal me with your words and your attention. I love you, Anaiya.