...to sit and be still

Ezra is sick today. The kind of sick where I look into his eyes and have a hard time finding him...as if the real Ezra has actually gone some place else.

He lay on my bed most of the day while I worked, falling in and out of sleep. Sometimes he would look at me for a moment, but would never speak, as if words simply took too much effort.

There's a feeling that's born in me on these days, reminding me of the fragility of life. It's a feeling that falls somewhere between pity and love. On any other healthy day, where mad running, fervent playing, and little man defiance is the norm, it's easy to forget how small and delicate life can be. But this day reminds me.

So now I sit, quiet in a chair, holding the limp body of my boy, sometimes reading or whispering soft words, and sometimes lifting a cup to his mouth for those few drops of water to fight dehydration. And somehow today, unlike many other days, I do not feel the urgent need to produce some work of great value.

Yes, today this is enough...to sit and be still with my sick boy.