Tempus fugit

Walking to dinner Friday night, I invited Lincoln up on my shoulders. He shrugged. "OK." It was about a one-block walk. I told him how often he use to do this in 2009, '10, '11. "You were like a baby monkey on my back all the time," I said. I can still see him on a sidewalk, turned to face me, arms up in unspoken greeting. "Pick me up." I hope I always can, kid, I hope I always can.