What I Wouldn’t Do

I had just finished telling my son that I would always be there for him when he fell into the lake running after a tennis ball. I should have seen it coming. But there he was flailing his arms and kicking to keep his head above water and in a second I was waist deep in the water grabbing him and running him back to shore.

I was at the park near our house. I called Kady to come pick us up. I was worried about how cold he was. He was soaked head to toe. I was cold as well. But the problem was I had the van keys in my pocket. The only way to get him home fast was to run. And so I did. I ran a half mile home with a 32 pound toddler in soaked clothes in my arms. I haven’t worked that hard in years.

We got him undressed and in the shower with luke warm water and I got in with him. He was cold but just fine. We warmed up slowly and I tried to process all my emotions and come down from the adrenaline and exertion.

Later on when we were cozy on the couch I cried. If anything had happened to him I would have died. He means everything to me. I would have lifted a car out of the way to get him home safely.

We say things like “I would do anything for you,” but we don’t really know what that means. Until you have a reason to know. I would have run five miles today. And I think of what I do for him now because I love him so. All the usual parental things.

But what else would I do? Would I work to change the worst parts of myself to be a better example for him? Would I put my own emotions to the side to make sure he is heard and understood? “Anything” is a big and powerful word. And having these boys, my wife, this life that I live helps me each time get closer to understanding what true selflessness, compassion, empathy, and love are.

I am far from where I want to be, but as I ran my son home today in my arms while my biceps and lungs burned I realized a fraction of what this means. It’s not that I will do anything for him. It’s that anything I do must have his, his brother’s, and my wife’s best interests in mind.

Now he’s sleeping soundly in his bed. I’m listening to his snoring. And so grateful he’s here warm and safe and ok. And ok maybe I’m crying a little again.