“Boston,” I ask, “Will you be my best friend forever?”
“Even when your 16?”
“Yes, forever and ever!”
I feel the tears begin to burn. I wonder, what really lies ahead for us?
What will life throw at her? In what ways will it try to break her dear form? The thoughts begin to consume me to the point of deep heartache. How I long to keep her sheltered from all the cruelty of this world. If only I could be her protecter forever and ever. . .
“My head hangs lower and I begin to cry. I need to try harder, to be more disciplined, more structured. I somehow need to find more energy. This coffee isn’t cutting it anymore. I am tired. I am spent. I am a failure and the day is only half through. The tears begin to flow faster.
Then, I stop to look around. . .”
She was our waitress, the kindest waitress you will ever meet. She interacted with my little guy for a while and then turned to me, “My son is eight. . . He is still living in the Philipines with my parents.” I realized in that moment the utter triviality of my “First World Problems.” We spoke… Continue reading My First World Problems