Are you hurt?

MacKenzie came to bring me my paints from our apartment in Queens today. It was bad timing, and right as A was closing his eyes, the doorbell rang. I ended up stumbling over the bed in the dark and really hurting myself.

The first thing this baby asks me when I walk back into the room is... "Are you hurt, Sam? You fell! Are you hurt?" I think I wanted to cry or something.

I just crawled back into bed saying, "It's okay, I'm okay but thanks for caring..."

I spent most of the day living in my own head letting myself be invaded by peculiar thoughts of loss. So it's remarkable how these tiny moments I have with him, pull me out and make me forget everything but how happy and fulfilled I feel when he does something as simple as remember to say "Thank you," or watching him shut his eyes to see "the colors" when he's swinging on the swings.