My birthday isn't until tomorrow, the 20th, but I actually turned 60 yesterday when I was in the backyard with Chippy.  

I had asked him, after a long, hard day in the 6th grade, to help me move some boxes into the storage shed.  It was just turning dark and the air was cooling, the sky was still blue with the gray of the evening just starting to glide in.  

But Chippy was in no mood to work and was making -- barely audible to me -- griping noises with every step.  One of the remarks, which I did hear, stopped me in my tracks, and I put my hand on his shoulder, turned him around, and said, "Look at me, I want to tell you something."  

At first he didn't look up, thinking I was angry, but after a glance decided it was safe to look his Dad in the eyes.  I've never said anything like this before, to anyone, but I heard the words just pop out:

"Chippy, you know we are not always going to be together like this.  It's a beautiful autumn day, and we're in the backyard of our home and the leaves are falling, just look around.  We won't always be able to work together like this, father and son."

"I know, Dad," he said right away, smiling.  "I know, I know," he added and put his arms around me.  "Let's enjoy this, OK?," I asked him looking down at the top of his head, and he nodded, not looking up.  

I knew I had turned 60 when I was suddenly aware that moments like that, in my backyard, with my son on an autumn afternoon, might never come again -- you just never know, as they say.