Write it down. Before they never knew.

You said "Dad, you smell like outside" after I came in from mowing the yard. I stood in the doorway laughing for a solid minute.

I don't know why that hit me so hard. You were completely serious — like you'd said the most normal thing in the world. You had a juice stain on your shirt and you were just standing there, looking at me.

I've been going hard lately. Three things running at once, never enough hours, always something pulling. And for one second I was just a dad who smells like cut grass. I couldn't stop smiling.

If you're reading this someday — you were four. That doorway. I will never forget it.