“Sometimes, I can see the future.”

David's 4 ½ year old eyes forced open portals to an alternate universe, “Really??”

Yep, not all the time, but sometimes.”

“Wow!”... “Let's race!”

His little legs bounded off, begging me to follow,
Right past his mom,
Flying around the corner,
Kicking through muddy grass sullied with horse manure and gravel.

I chased after him,
33 year-old heart injected with a time-warp elixir made of “everything's possible”.
“I'm gonna catch you.
I'm gonna catch you...”
David pumped his fists, ducked his head and punched it into high gear.
I inhaled the same joy of young boy treasure hunts, spring rain puddle stomping, winter snow
football tackles & sped up beside him,
Wanting to press my hand to that rusted pickup truck skin first and declare, “Victory!”
But remembering that I was an adult trying to beat a 4 year-old.
(I don't remember who won...) ((me!))

“My daddy has a pickup truck.”

“Really? Do you get to see him much?”

“Not very much, but sometimes...”
His eyes fell to the earth for a second
Before looking up to see this big, male jumping bean
Still smiling at him,
With more compassion than before.
A flash of excitement erased the melancholy from his face.
“C'mon, let's race!”

And he took off again,
Through the mud, grass & horse manure,
Back around the corner to where we started.
This time I let him win.
“You beat me.
Man, you're so fast!”

Unfazed, he took off again,
4 ½ year-old limbs wanting to extend this marathon of older male enjoyment as long as possible.
We raced back and forth,
Faster than any racehorse could run,
Longer than the endurance of the sun.

It's a good thing that I'm in relatively good shape,
Because David wouldn't take no for an answer,
Pushed himself to go faster and faster,
By the time the moon glanced a merciful eye down to our well-worn track,
He saw little legs beginning to wobble...
“You're getting tired,” I yelled mischievously as I chased after his slower pace.
“You're getting' tiiirrreed.”
When we got back to home base I asked,
“Do you want to look at the art?”
David grabbed my hand, and we trudged inside the Austin Figurative Gallery.

“She doesn't have any clothes on.”
“She doesn't have any clothes on.”
“Why doesn't she have any clothes on?”

Almost all the paintings were nudes.
I just met this kid
And I'm not even in a relationship with his mom
And already I get to have the sex talk with him!
Two watchful eyes beamed intently as I knelt down to meet David's gaze.

“People paint people without clothes sometimes...
Because the human body's beautiful,” I said,
noticing his mother nodding slowly with a wry smile a few yards away.

“Well, she doesn't have any clothes on.
C'mon, let's go race again!” he said, and bounded outside.

He still had a few more laps in him.
I knew his mom would be happy at how easily he went to sleep.
You can't beat a night of racing if you're a boy with no full-time dad.
Life can't get much sweeter than innocent, boy-like fun for an unmarried man with no full-time
son.

When David finally finished his running,
His flying through the night sky as I swung him round in my arms,
I knelt down and looked into his happy tired eyes again.
“Remember how I told you that sometimes I can see the future?”

“Yeah,”

“Well, one day you're going to grow up to be a man,
'Cause that's what little boys do.
And you're going to be thankful for your mother
And have a good relationship with her.
And you're going to teach other boys how to be a man just like you.”

The silence of two seconds lasted like an eternity
As a seed of hope took root in a child's vast universe.
His mother stood still,
Enjoying the rare quiet of the rambunctious delight of her life.

“Can we go run one more time, Peter?” he asked, conquering what was left of my heart.

I stepped through portals into another universe
Where children's requests can never be denied,
And the heart of a father always finds time
To plant seeds in the soil of growing boys.

“Sure,” I beamed. “Let's race!”