He turned to face me with his typical impish smile upon his face awaiting my chase. I smiled back and he realized that a pursuit would be futile as I caught up to him. We strolled along the front walkway of the building until we came to the curb. We usually stayed inside the library at the community centre while his brother played Sportball for that hour but it was a beautiful day and we had no where to be but with each other.
I took his small, soft hand in mine and we hopped down the curb, crossing the parking lot toward a grassy hill that led to a small creek, a walking path in between.
With the unusual March warm weather, dandelions had peeked their sunny faces through the bright green grass.
"Flower!" Finley exclaimed kneeling down. "Pick it?" His soft voice asked as he looked up at me, his eyes questioning.
"Yes, that's a dandelion Fin. You can pick it. Do you want smell it?"
He leaned his perfect cherubic face toward the flower and inhaled quickly. Sweet child loves to smell everything.
He attempted to put the flower behind my ear. Oh my overflowing heart.
|His attempt...sweet son of mine.|
We continued down the hill, across the path and toward the small creek where he found 'swords' (aka sticks) and threw them into the trickling stream.
I sat along the slope of the embankment and watched my youngest son. The sun shone down and the cool wind blew softly lifting the strands of his golden cap of hair as he continued to search for sticks and throw them with every ounce of his 2 year old might into the water.
|One of the many 'swords'.|
Grandmas - his eyes are still in place. Not marred nor scarred.
|Once again...don't worry Grandmothers... I kept a good eye on him|
and repeatedly yelled out "Danger! Danger!" when he got too close.
The song 'Let's Go Fly A Kite' made it's way into my mind and I sang it aloud.
I tend to burst into song randomly as soon as it comes to mind. It's one of my
Except all I could remember was, "Let's go fly a kite, up to the highest height." so I kept singing that same line over and over again, then humming the rest.
"It's a beautiful day!"
I heard a woman's voice call from the path behind me and assumed she had met up with someone else along the way.
"It's a beautiful day!" I heard her declare again. I turned around to find a woman about the age of 70 calling out to us from up the hill on the pathway.
"Gorgeous!" I replied back smiling. I anticipated her next sentence...the line most people of older generations tend to say to Mothers with young children...."Enjoy this time with them!"
But she did not. She continued her walk.
I had been ready to answer her. I always say the same thing. It is the truth.
For however tough my day has been - and there have been
Like a cat seeking out that specific sphere of warmth on the floor from the filtered golden sunshine through a window, the love moments with my family are what I bask in when the chaos of the day has eventually departed into slumber.