He calls

and tells me the day's stories.  An afternoon of playing blind shoe shuffle with third-grade kids.  A good meeting with the graphics TA.  An evening spent listening to a friend play saxophone, in a building that sits high on a hill, Hogwarts style.  A note of thanks from his TV crew team (affixed to a bag of candy).  It's after ten, and the day's not done—he'll go to the gym, he says, and work out.  He'll finish a paper. He's about to call a friend. 

I love your right now, I say.  I love this very instant.

Yeah, he says, and laughs, but Mom:  I've really got to run.