By guest writer Rob Ganley
HE was five today and jealous I’d paid his sister too much attention. He wanted a shoulder ride.
“Am I heavy Dad?” he said.
“I’m sorry. Was it easier when I was three?”
“It’s fine. I’ll be sad when I can’t carry you anymore.”
He patted my head. He was thinking.
“When I have babies,” he said, “you can carry your grandchildren on your shoulders.”
“That would make me happy.”
“You never bought me the air guitar you promised me,” he said.
We walked and talked until my neck went into spasm because I wanted it to never end.
©Rob Ganley 2016