At least once a day a lovely little voice says, "Mommy, I carry you". Which means, please pick me up, I am tired or I need to see/get something up high.
I sat in a lot of smoky bars in order to hear those words.
I remember when Jack used to say the same thing. And when Will came along, I used to carry both boys down the stairs. Sometimes one in each arm, sometimes one on my back (Jack) and the other in front (Will). I loved that feeling.
It made sitting all those nights in all those smoky bars worthwhile.
What Will doesn't know yet is that he really carries me, not the other way around. He helps my sad heavy heart pick itself up and move on with the day. Reminds me that their is another life in this house that needs me, wants me and loves me unconditionally. And that Jack my be gone in body but he lives on through Will and how Sam and I will raise Will and the man he will become.
Another gift from those lovely Robertson Boys.
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