Shogi

This morning Uta woke up saying he felt homesick. But we are home. When I asked him what might make him feel better he said he wished Pop and I were both with him building something out of legos. A simple request. And yet I am ashamed at how impossible such a thing feels. Putting everything on hold to be fully present with Uta should be a pleasure, and yet rarely does it happen. There is almost always something else I am thinking of, something more pressing to get done. And yet all that I am busy doing adds up to nothing really in the end. Just an hour with Uta, connecting with him truly, on his terms and in accordance with his rhythms, would simply mean the world to him.

When it happens that we are all together, and thinking of nothing but each other, Uta's delight is contagious. Its easier away from home, minus all of our daily distractions. Visiting Grandma last week, Pop took the time to introduce Uta to Shogi, the Japanese version of chess. I do not have a mind for chess, from any country, but Uta took to it with a passion. I'm not sure if it was the game itself, or this special time with his Papa, but most likely it was a combination of the two.