My dad used to tell me that his mother had a saying, "Tomorrow never comes." My dad instilled this in me as a work ethic, to not put off until tomorrow, what could be done today. I over-learned that one.
Thursday night I put Rojo to bed, happily, I thought. Half an hour later he came into our room crying, "I feel so left out. You are talking to Daddy and I am all alone in my room."
He was inconsolable, and cried for 45 minutes straight. "I am too stressed to fall asleep," he said. Finally, nearly two hours later, we got him to sleep.
Friday morning he woke up, was happy, hyper and had moved on. "Last night I cried like there was no tomorrow," he said, then holding his arms out, palms up, he said, "but here it is."
My grandma and father were wrong. Tomorrow does come.
* Photo from urbanfluteproject.com