rolled down a window

　He looked at my moist eyes quizzically.

　　"Patrick, do you remember when you asked me why you had never seen me cry?"

　　He nodded.

　　"Well, I"m crying now."

　　"Why, Dad?"

　　"Your singing was so wonderful it made me cry."

　　Patrick smiled proudly and flew into my arms.

　　"Sometimes," my son said into my shoulder, "life is so beautiful you have to cry."

　　Our moment together was over too soon. Untold treasures awaited our five-year-old beneath the tree at home, but I wasn"t ready for the traditional plunge into Christmas just yet. I handed Catherine the keys and set off for the mile-long hike home.

　　The night was cold and crisp. I crossed a park and admired the full moon hanging low over a neighborhood brightly lit in the colors of the season. As I turned toward home, I met a car moving slowly down the street, a family taking in the area"s Christmas lights. Someone rolled down a window.

　　"Merry Christmas," a child"s voice yelled out to me.

　　"Merry Christmas," I yelled back. And the tears began to flow all over again.