We walked out of the building. It was dark outside. And slippery, because of the ice on the ground, turned from the melted snow.
“I got something in my (Valentines) bag that can help us.” Randall started searching in the paper bag.
“What do you have? A cane?”
“No. A flashlight!”

Back when the kid had been even younger, there had always been a mix of unbearably adorable moments and even more unbearably bad meltdowns. I’d think the meltdowns would last forever, as well as the cuteness. Yet at this point I came to realize that this cuteness and sweetness of a 7-year-old is going to drift away. Soon.

From a few feet behind, I was watching him go down the sidewalk, holding the flashlight. The beam was going about everywhere. For whatever it might be shining at, it clearly did not light up the ground in front of him. But it lit up his mood, as well as mine. It was freezing and normally I wouldn’t want to stay out any longer than I had to, but somehow at this moment I wish I could freeze time, freeze the sweetness in this cold air.