On Friday, I was behind a father and a son as they walked home together from the bus stop. At one point, the boy (seven or eight years old) stopped and held himself very still. He was staring into a patch of flowers–sunflowers and cosmos and black-eyed susans.
His father kept walking.
“Dad,” the boy shouted. “Hey, Dad. Hold up. This is important. I need to watch this bee.”
I don’t know why those words struck me as a revelation, but they did; they do.
“Hold up,” I keep saying to the adult in myself. “Hold up. This is important. I need to watch this bee.”

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