the kid returns from the city that never sleeps

I may have had one crazy (but in so many ways beautiful) week, but I've got nothing on my son, who returned home just ahead of the midnight hour following three-and-a-half days in the City That Never Sleeps.  He had photographs.  He had stories.  He had had such a happy time.  He's asleep upstairs as I type this now.  He's asleep and dreaming.



I'm never truly whole except when he's home.  These are the last few days of his last-ever spring break.



If I don't answer my phone, you'll understand why.