There was a time when every single time I would drive through our gate, I would hear from the back seat, “Mom, can I run home?” It was either from a sweet little masculine voice, a mini girl voice, or sometimes in unison. I’ll admit, there were days, when all I wanted to do was quickly get into the driveway, but most often I would stop at the mailboxes and open up the slider for them to run. I was surprised to realize the other day, that it had been a very long time since I had any running requests from the back seat. So when I heard Cast Boy excitedly say, “Mom….Mom…I haven’t run home in a long time. Can I run home when we get through the gate?” I was SO excited! I stopped, let him out, drove by his side and yelled the usual, “Pump those arms! Whoa, you are running SO fast! I can barely keep up! Lift those legs and pump those arms!”
And there was my sweet little partly crippled boy with the most determined run I’ve seen.
It was a little slower than before. A little more labored than before. A little more awkward than before.
But he ended up in the same place he always does…
In my arms at Home Sweet Home.
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