A man and his son were lying on their backs on the grass in the park, watching the clouds loiter overhead, when the son asked, “Dad, why are we here?”
And this is what I said:
“I’ve thought a lot about it, Son, and I don’t think it’s all that complicated. I think maybe we’re here just to teach a kid how to bunt or how to eat sunflower seeds without using his hands.
“We’re here to wear our favourite sweat-soaked Brisbane Broncos cap with nowhere we have to go and no one special we have to be.
“I don’t think the meaning of life is worrying over what comes after death but tasting all the tiny moments that come before it. We’re here to be there when our kid has three goals and an assist. And especially when he doesn’t.
“See, grown-ups spend so much time slaving toward the better car, the perfect house, the big day that will finally make them happy, when happy just walked by wearing a bicycle helmet two sizes too big for him. We’re not here to find a way to heaven. The way is heaven.
“Does that answer your question, Son?”
“Not really, Dad,” he said.
And he said, “No, what I meant is, why are we here when Mum said to pick her up forty minutes ago?”