It was only a dream...

Don't you see? It's all about the moments. Life is a collection of them to be experienced, savored, and remembered.

The tough part is recognizing the perfect ones when they happen.

This morning, I went into A's room to wake him up, and he was curled up in a ball with the blankets pulled tight against his chin. Instead of announcing myself at the door, I walked over to the bed, lifted the covers, and slipped into the bed beside him. He snuggled against my chest with a heavy sigh. I pulled him close, kissed the top of his head, and gazed out the window.

It was still relatively dark outside, and I could see the lighted wings of jets coming in from the north in their initial descent into O'Hare. Although we're twenty-five miles away, the lines of aircraft waiting to land sometimes stretch well past our house and into Wisconsin. As I stared out the window, arms wrapped tightly around my boy, I watched the jets one by one as they silently made their way across the dawn sky. I thought of all the people in the air that weren't lying quietly with their children, listening to them breathe as they awoke for the day.

I nudged A, and whispered in his ear. "Wake up, buttercup..."

He sighed again. "That's Doctor Professor Buttercup to you, lady."

I giggled. "Only when you're wearing pants. Any man in boxers and a tee shirt forfeits the title of Doctor Professor."

He turned, wrapped his arms around my neck, and said, "Okay, butter brickle."

I raspberried his cheek, flipped open the covers, and hopped off to the shower.

I love that boy.