Hear the swish-swish of their snow pants as we walk home from drugstore. Sun, so bright, reflecting off snow. Younger likes to hold my hand still, sometimes. Older walks ahead, blazing a trail on slushy sidewalk. We laugh, waddle, joke. Feel like a new dad, all over again.
Silver jet streaks above, double contrails painting lines across azure heaven. We lie in snow looking up at clear, uniform sky, jet exhaust the only stain—arrows dissipating into ether.
Make snow angels. Quiet. Stare at sky.
Climb snow mountain, piled in middle of cul-de-sac. King of the Castle. Dad's the "King." Kids try to push me off—of course, they can't. Swat them away, haha, like King Kong flicking off airplanes. Love these boys, jolly smiles, laughing, rassling.
Look up and see older's face, framed by royal blue sky, snow on toque glinting like halo. Looks like an angel, cherub from heaven.
I made you. Isn't that amazing?
Stick our faces in the snow. Oh, that's cold, refreshing! Laugh at our "faceprints." Snort at puffy white powder on our faces, melting almost instantly.
My sons, I know now that I must make the world a better place for you. Feel connected in a way I haven't for a long time.
The most precious gift I can give is my time.
Photo: Freeimages.com – haak78