There were a million things to do. It was the first evening in two weeks that we'd made it home before 7:00. I had supper in the oven and was headed for the laundry room when I heard it: the thud of his basketball hitting the hard dirt that makes up his outdoor court. Opening the door I saw the team of one; dribbling, swooping and spinning with the confidence of 13 years beneath his feet.
I needed to stay in. But I needed to be with him more.
"Watch this, Mom!" he called as he practiced his latest move. The deep voice that now belongs to my son rang through sharp, clear air and his laughter echoed across twilight.
I guarded. He humored me. I shot. He tried his best not to poke fun. We ran and laughed, breath coming quick with the cold air painting pale, winter skin with a rose-tipped brush. Time had stopped...and for a moment I was just 'Mom', with nothing else to do but spend time with my son.
And though my list of "to do's" still remains, the digression was worth it. It was a moment, afterall. A moment spent in joy, dotted with love and best of all, shared with a heart that's so dear to my own.