"And once upon a time white people didn't let black people be their friends."

I over heard him telling his younger brother, in between the bits and sentences about his crush-au-jour and how to spell the word "B-U-T-T". 

Tuesday. After Martin Luther King Jr. Day. He has learned something life-changing. And he is trying to figure it out.

"Mom." He plops on the couch next to me with dirty, untied tennis shoes curling up next to my leg. I put down my laptop and set aside my work because there are moments when to focus you must focus. There are conversations that must be had without the whirring of a cooling fan in the background. Moments when to live we must actually be present.

I turn towards him. "What's up?"

"If I had been born a long long time ago then I couldn't be friends with my cousins." He recognizes the journey our humanity has trekked. "Why's that honey?" 

"I learned in school that people didn't used to get treated equally. And that was really really bad. Because all of the people in the world are the same, you know. And skin colors and just your outside parts and your hearts are all good if you have love for other people."

My son is profound, precious, prophetic. His big, lashed eyes blink at me. I affirm him. "You're right. All of God's people deserve love and respect, no matter our differences." 

He shuffles and stands up. "Even monsters and saber-toothed tigers" he grins and runs off laughing. Because for all the seriousness he is still my little boy.

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