I looked outside and saw nine-year-old Henry riding his trick bike, wearing black baseball pants that might as well be leggins, no socks, cleats, a black Harley Davidson T-shirt, and a black suede Hop-Along Cassidy vest that is part of a Halloween costume he wore when he was maybe five at the most.

I watched him stop, put one foot down, adjust his banged-up Hot Wheel helmet and look west to admire the sunset. He scanned the sky and found the moon, then looked again at the back-lit clouds. He saw me. Gave me a thumbs up. Pointed to the sky, nodded in approval, got back on that bike and sped around for the last fleeting moments of daylight. He is his father’s son, for sure. Appreciating the beauty of this earth, even on the go. What a gift.