Happy Fourth Birthday, Arthur

To Arthur, on his fourth birthday:

My dear son, my baby boy, happy birthday.  At this moment, our family is in Savannah, Georgia.  I have a work conference that coincided with your birthday weekend, and we brought everyone along.  We've had fun, but I've been busy going back and forth.

For this year's letter, I want to share a "moment" with you.  I had one yesterday.  I was sitting in a conference room, and the room had a window open to the water.  An enormous freighter came across the window.  It moved the waters out of its way so easily, but without any violence.  It was a few minutes of single-minded devotion in my cluttered mind. 

I had another one last year.  The air was hot and sticky, and I had been outside.  When I got to the kitchen, I poured a glass of sweet tea over more ice than the cup could hold.  After giving it a minute to chill the liquid, I sipped.  At once, I was one with the universe.  The euphoria was brief, but tangible.

I also had another moment today, watching you.  We were walking back to the hotel along the riverfront.  You, Asa, and Alden took off running.  I watched as you all laughed together for a reason only you all know.  Your shorter legs fell a little behind, but you looked back at me.  With your cheeky, open-mouthed smile, you said: "You comin'?"  Again, time slowed down to a crawl.

I am going to make a better effort to write these things down.  They are the moments when life becomes both simple and singular.  They are noteworthy because the choppy sea gives way to temporary stillness.  A gift.  I hope you (and I) will learn to cherish the moment and learn to make more than either of us deserve.

I love you, and I'm comin'.  Happy birthday, son.