Henrietta wills me to kick the soccer ball.
“C’mon,” her eyes challenge, “set that stupid hunk of plastic down and let’s play.”
I snap a few pictures and nod.
It’s when I make a minuscule move with my right foot, that with the speed of a cheetah on the hoofs of a gazelle, Henny snaps up the green ball with her shiny white teeth and nudges the Franklin with her left paw.
Who could say “no” to that?
Game on.
Today’s newsletter posed this question: is it possible to be preoccupied with the day’s “to do” list and still be present for soccer?” For Henny? For oneself?