The Fall. The Hurt.

I saw he was hurting. After the fall. Not only his scratched knee but more so his bruised ego. But he didn't show it and put up a brave front. He walked it off with a slight limp and a brave smile.

At times like this, all you can do is give him a high five and embrace him. Not too tight nor too long lest you embarrass him in front of his friends. No need to say, "it's okay, my son, you did your best." He knows that already. And has the scars to prove it.

He never talked about it and I never probed. Until  last Sunday, a good week after the incident, when we had breakfast in McDonald's, just the two of us. "Papa, do you think I could have won that race?" he asked in between fries. "Yes, son, you could have," I simply replied. And hugged him tight.