I stared at the five-year-old boy who was running around the park happily.
His chubby legs stepped quickly between the flower clusters, without fear of falling or tripping.
After a while, the boy stopped in front of a maroon rose bush and studied something seriously on the flowers.
"Mike," I called softly.
He turned and his cute smile widened when he saw me. He turned and his feet stepped towards me.
I opened my arms and let his little figure into my arms. It felt warm and fragrant, the soft scent of baby powder.
"Hey, champion, what are you doing?" I asked, kissing his cheek.
He laughed because he was tickled by my kiss. "I was watching the bee on the rose. I think it's grandma. The bee saw me and wasn't afraid of me."
My heart sank.
My mother died two years ago, after battling brain cancer that she had without me knowing.
I missed her more than I should have, because Michael was with me.