What Is Your Dream?


I asked my three sons the other day, what do you dream of:

Mack, eight years old, says he dreams of NBA 2K; the new one.

Brock, eleven, a new Ipad because you know I have the oldest one in the house, right?

Hudson, thirteen, Playstation. Easy. I dream of a Sony Playstation.

They high five each other nodding and slapping each other as if their “dreams” were strokes of genius and had already come to fruition.

I sit there and smile a thousand smiles, like seeing them each for the first time, this, despite seeing this behavior on a regular basis.

When the laughter dies down, my middle son says to me, “What about you, dad? What is your dream?

I think for a moment as I survey each of them: first Mack and his indelible smile, then Brock and his wry, dimpled grin, and lastly Hud with the most penetrating, sparkling blue eyes on the planet earth.

A smile slowly rises across my face.

“I dream of living a thousand lives with you three.”

Curious looks for the gallery.

Huh?

I can’t verbalize it. I can’t tell them I will not be here forever. That they will not be here forever. That life is temporal. Life is short. What, sixty, maybe seventy, eighty years together, if we are lucky. I can’t get that profound, that deep, that all encompassing with them today. They are caught up in their dream of their next piece of tech and I am caught up in the melancholy of the moment that THIS day, THIS twenty-four stretch with the three greatest joys of my life is almost over.

How does one make them understand?

How does one share with them how special this moment, any moment, the small moments, these times together are?

Sure, they’ll realize, like I did, later in life, how amazing their childhood was, how great their parents were and are. They will appreciate me and their mother once they see what horrendous things are out there in the real world. They will see the destruction of families, relationships, and friends, just as I did, and how it makes you appreciate all the small things we, as a family, did as a child.

But I want them to realize that now. Realize how good THIS is. How good THESE moments are. How much love is right here, right now, in THIS family. How much their mother does for them. How we choose, not out of obligation, but out of sheer desire to be with them on a Friday or Saturday night instead of going out. How sometimes I just stare at them and watch them sleep. Just watch them sleep and kiss their forehead softly, repeatedly, or rub their cheek and marvel at how much I love them and how their mother and I created this absolutely perfect little boy out of nothing… when we had nothing… nothing but love for one another.

Will they know? Will they ever truly know the depth, the power, the gravity of the love I feel for each one of them at the base of my being? At the core of my being? In every fiber of me?

Oh, I dream.

I dream for so many things for my boys. The things we all do: health, happiness, success, and to find true love.

But really I just dream to live a thousand more lifetimes with my sons because I love every moment of what we are living together each day.

Boys, I love you more than mere words can even attempt to describe. I dream… oh, how I dream… of an everlasting eternity… with you three.


Leave a comment


Please note, comments must be approved before they are published