Thinking about turning my head, looking over my shoulder.
I hear some clicks, some breaths.
I think I am being watched.
Stay the course though.
Today was wet, cold, warm and then cold again.
Repeat, over and over until it is time to call it a day.
Done early, so I race to grab my son.
I mean to say that I want to run into the school, pick him up and squeeze him.
It is the closest thing to an addiction I have in my life.
Hugging and kissing my boy.
But life has different plans for me.
Instead of hugs I get the long face.
He isn't ready to leave.
I can't compete with Horton.
So we spend the next few hours wrestling with our emotions.
Trying to make the gears fit again.
To pick up where we left off.
It's funny and sad because it is times like this that I think he will remember.
The times we didn't get along, or connect properly...
But that is just my paranoia, stupid paranoia.
Tonight, before he fell asleep, he says to me
"I love you Dad. I'm sorry we were fighting"
"Buddy, we weren't fighting. We were just figuring things out."
Because that is the truth.