Thank-you for never locking your car door. I ask you every time we get out, and yet you, seated directly behind me the driver, seldom do. Sometimes I notice, and lock the door myself. Often I don't.
Today I was in the Dulaney Plaza parking lot, in the bright sun, with the trunk open while I read the amoxicillin prescription the endodontist gave me. I can't handle giving up caffeine (which allegedly might make my migraines less severe) and recovering from a "re-treat" on a root canal because of an abscess, so I was taking my pill and then heading in to Starbucks for an iced latte. And what the hell, I was thinking. My head already hurts, and my mouth hurts, so I might as well.
Distracted by abscessing self-pity and thick with self-justification, I shut the trunk, keys inside.
"Damn, F*ck, Ouch. Damn!" I said, squinting at the too bright hot tarmac, and then I tried your door and it was unlocked.
And I climbed in, and pulled the latch for the trunk, and retrieved my keys and it was good.
My sweet, curly-headed, quietly disobedient boy. Thank-you.
In this and so many other ways your being yourself in spite of me and what I ask of you is simply wonderful.