Three nights a week I pick my son up from daycare. For the past few months it has been freezing much too cold (to steal from the West Wing.) When it is that cold I feel my only real choice is to take the bus back.
Buses here are nice and run fairly on time, but it also feels like a bit of a waste. After all, using a bus it takes roughly 35 minutes to get home. Walking takes about 45.
Might as well get the excercise. Plus walking let’s me learn a little more about my neighborhood.
So we walk. Sometimes we sing, or I ramble so he can listen. Yesterday he fell asleep. I’ll doubt I’ll manage to walk late enough for him to get sleepy tonight.
Leo is 14kg and full of energy. He gets mistaken for twice his age, but he’s just my little guy.
Right now he is relaxing a giving me a few minutes to write in the darkness every now and then.
At a little park we sit together. He plays with my beard and I make silly noises as he laughs.
I’m dragging the time out so my wife can rest. She made a big pot of soup yesterday and part of me wants to hurry home and eat.
Instead I kiss my son.
Just another walk home.
Deadly Troubadour 