At some point in life the world’s beauty becomes enough. You don’t need to photograph, paint, or even remember it. It is enough.
Toni Morrison
When my son’s school called me at 1 pm on a busy Wednesday, I stepped out of a meeting to take the call. Lucas had been fighting a cold and woke up with a fever, but I hoped he would make it through the school day. I guess that was wishful thinking.
“Lucas is asking to go home,” the school nurse said. “He’s not feeling well and is asking you to come get him.”
“Okay, tell him I’ll be there in 20 minutes,” I replied. I just need to wrap up a few things at work.”
I could have called Julia, my ex-wife. We’ve split picking up the kids when they’re sick before. But I didn’t because Lucas had specifically asked for me. So, I let my boss know there was a family emergency, delegated a few critical tasks to my team, and headed out.
As I navigated the midday traffic on my way to Lucas’ school, I reflected on my life at 42. I was divorced, treading water at work while colleagues were promoted above me, sometimes content but often wondering, “Is this all there is?”
I love my son more than anything; we have a great relationship. But being a single working dad is no cakewalk. It is a constant challenge to juggle it all and still be there for Lucas as he needs me to. I often feel like I’m coming up short on all fronts.
When I arrived at his school, Lucas was curled up on the cot in the nurse’s office, looking pale and glassy-eyed. “Hey buddy,” I said gently, crouching down. “Not feeling too good, huh?” He shook his head and reached out for a hug. I could feel the heat of his feverish body against me.
After signing him out, I drove us home, stopping to get some chicken soup and Gatorade on the way. When we got home, I helped Lucas change into his PJs and tucked him into bed. As I placed a cold compress on his forehead, he looked up at me with those big brown eyes, so much like mine, and said in a raspy voice, “I love you, Dad. Thanks for coming to get me.” I almost lost it right there. “I love you too, Lucas. So much. Get some rest, and I’ll check on you in a bit.”
Emotionally drained, I headed downstairs and made myself a cup of coffee. I took it out to the small terrace overlooking our modest backyard. As I watched a pair of robins hop along the fence, it struck me – I may not have the big career, the perfect marriage, or a fancy house. My life may not look like I thought it would at this age. But I have an incredible son who loves me and needs me. I get to be there for him in the ways that truly matter, like today.
And maybe, just maybe, that’s enough. With a deep breath, I headed back inside to check on Lucas, thankful for my messy, beautiful life.
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