"That's really nice of your husband to use his snowblower on all the sidewalks on the block. This twenty-five inches is a lot to shovel."
"The machine makes it easy to do walkways, but it can't handle the ice chunks the snowplow throws out so I'm shoveling the driveway while he does the walks."
"Well, please thank him for going past your neighbor's house and down my sidewalk with it."
"Ahh, he's glad to do it."
"So, what grade is your daughter in now?"
"She started high school this past September."
"They grow up so fast!"
"Oh, I know. When Jimmy stopped by our house to say hello, I barely recognized him. I hadn't seen him since he moved away, when he was just starting high school."
"Yeah, they grow up fast."
This idle conversation on Super Bowl Sunday thus took another little piece of my heart. Peyton Manning won the Super Bowl on the day I last spoke with Jimmy. A casualty of the divorce wars.
I quelled my impulse to desperately ask when it was that my son had, oddly, "stopped by" to say hello to neighbors he barely ever knew. Whether it was last week or last decade, I suspect my oldest child knew that eventually I would discover he had been in the neighborhood without communicating with me.
Have another little piece of my heart now, baby,
Well, you know you got it, child, if it makes you feel good.