He Will Never Pass This Way Again

He looked up at me, with shining, expectant eyes that seemed to be saying, "I killed it, Mommy. I wasted it."

He was so proud of himself and thrilled at his accomplishment. And it wasn't exactly an easy thing to do. He had worked very hard.

But I couldn't praise him. I felt no pride at his perseverance.

All the time he had spent stalking it...swallowed up in his triumphant victory...a hollow victory in my eyes. Would he look back someday and wish, even at that tender age, that he had made a different choice?

He doesn't realize how each one is fleeting and finite. He is too young to understand that once one is gone, it will never come back. He looks around and sees so many; to him, there's enough to go around, plenty to squander and kill.

He has beaten his best score on the computer game he has been playing lately. My son has learned to kill time.