The power and glory of a single word

I've been a parent for 21 years and change.  For most of that time I was all-in or "lean-ed in" in ways that even Sheryl Sandberg would never understand because our current culture radically and willfully and self-blindingly misunderstands the subtleties and essential-ness and power, not to mention the costs and consequences, of all-in male care giving.  That kind of total attention over that much time, however, is not without its side effects.  Not more than 15 minutes ago I was unloading my weekly groceries.  My neighbor and his son were raking or working on their lawn…maybe 20 yards away.  I am not habituated to the male-child voice, having been blessed with the grace of three perfect daughters. All my neighbor's son had to do was say the word "dad," almost under his breath; I could barely hear it. In slow-motion time, like in a movie, I could feel every single muscle in my torso, reflexively and without my consent or direct ratiocination but with my utter and complete awareness, contract and twist towards the word.