When my recent high school graduate, writer, almost adult son was a little boy, he needed almost constant contact. Frequent hugs, hand holding, lap sitting, and loving was the norm, and he just couldn’t hardly stand it when I was busy with a client and he couldn’t climb onto my lap and just ‘hold me’ while I worked.
After a few days of tax season had passed, clients were lining up at the door, and he was growing more and more frustrated by the minute, he showed up behind my desk, just standing there, watching me. He wasn’t a bother to me, and didn’t distract me, but my client seemed less than happy with his presence and suggested he go play. Head hung low, he started out of my office…
As he got just out of arm’s reach, he reached back and poked my arm with his finger and said, “Poke.” Then ran off down the hall way to play. Frequently that day, as clients came and went, he’d appear long enough to poke me, say, “Poke.” and off he’d go.
As the day slowed, we set down to dinner prepared by his sister and he chose to sit beside me. We held hands during prayer and he held on a little longer than usual. I glanced over at him and he was looking up at my face. He grinned and quickly let go.
Dinner was delicious! Brenna is an excellent cook and was back then too.
We talked about the information the kids were learning during the day, I caught up on what books were being read, any questions they had about school work. Home schooling during tax season is a bit more relaxed, but still just as active. I voiced my concern over an event earlier in the day, and we talked about a mission trip coming up in early June. Brenna was excited. Tatia had decided not to go. The boys were too young and had other events taking place.
After dinner, I had another client coming by to drop of tax docs, but there were some minutes before they would arrive when I got to check my blogs, and write. Kenton came into my office and climbed onto my lap. His arms around my neck, I held him tight and he said, “I love you.”
I said, “So what’s with Poke?”
“Well, I know you’re busy. I can’t sit on your lap, but I just need to let you know I love you.” He hugged me tighter, “So, I say poke and that’s like a hug. It means, I love you.”
After nearly 12 years, Kenton still walks past me, while working and pokes my arm. Sometimes, he still says, “Poke.” During the last year, he went to public school for the first time, and those mornings when I’d drop him off, he frequently reached across to the driver’s seat and poked my arm.
Yes. I love you. Here’s a hug. Poke.
My son, Kenton, is also a writer. His book is on the verge of being released – within a week – and his next will be out within a couple of months. He’s dedicated to the craft and moving quickly toward writing success as a Commentator for an online Magazine, Blogger and author.