This morning you woke up, smiled at me sweetly, sleepily, and asked for broccoli. How could I possibly refuse? I’ve never really been into cooking, but I like to try sometimes, especially for you. One of my favorite memories will always be of this morning, as you played air violin with all the seriousness that a 22 month old boy can muster. You did this as you sat on my lap and I hummed Ode to Joy, while we waited for the broccoli to finish baking.
You said “mmmm” and smiled with every bite, and every time your father helped himself to some, you would check how much is left and pat your chest, saying “Corwin”, as if telling him to make sure he leaves enough for you. I love you so much, my funny bunny.
Last night, you made me sit Meemo (your little wooden robot, a gift from clients/friends) up so you could teach him how to cook zebra soup and fried orange. You would let me taste what you were cooking, and I said “yum” every time. I’m just now realizing that maybe you respond so positively to my cooking because I do the same with yours. Hahaha.
We had a really great shoot today. It rained so hard, but we were happy still. It’s been five years and there’s still a little part of me that’s in disbelief over how lucky your father and I are to be able to do what we love for a living together. On the long drive home in the rain, I wished for you three things: 1) that you be so lucky as to find your passion and love your job as much as we love ours (in case you prefer that your passion and your job not be one and the same, that’s okay, too) ; 2) that your heart will always be grateful for whatever it is you do have; and 3) love — the kind that gathers you and keeps you safe and warm, the kind that always feels like coming home.