Good

The path ahead is straight and long, dotted with families out for an afternoon stroll, joggers taking advantage of the beautiful Sunday, cyclists weaving in and out among all. On either side the grass is just turning green, above the sky is a glory of blue. And we are here.

Art and I walk together, most of the time, talking about plans and the kids and the day in between warnings to get out of the way, a bike is coming or hold onto the leash tighter! The boys alternate running ahead and falling behind, feeling the pull of spring in their beings just as I do. The baby laughs and kicks her feet and babbles and dances in her stroller.

The sun and the wind are fighting for dominance; one moment I am hot in my jacket; the next I am cold in my short sleeves. I don’t really care. The breeze pushes my hair from my face and I am alive and it is spring and everything is new again.

We turn from the path onto the sidewalk of a busy road, and the wind is stronger here but we keep walking. Art is nervous as the boys swing and dart from side to side. Too much noise– not enough peace. We turn down a path between fences and the quiet surrounds us again.

A park– and swings and slide and teeter-totter and happy children, for a few moments. Spring calls to us, but nature calls louder. We leave the park with promises to return another day, a day with emptier bladders and more time to rest.

And we are nearly home, and the dog is no longer dragging the children, but the children the dog, and Stinky is tired and requires a piggyback ride, and Bubs is tired and requires a walking stick, and Little One is sitting back against her seat finally and I think she must be tired too.

Cross one street– cross another– and we are home, with its messes and toys and imperfections, but home nonetheless. Bid farewell to greening lawns, budding trees, overwhelming sky. Take off coats and shoes and hats and take turns in the bathrooms. Water to drink and books to read and games to play and ice cream to devour– with sprinkles of course– and this is a good life.

And outside, the sun sets orange and the sky turns dark and the breeze caresses the house with fingers that push the curtains back, back into this home of love and warmth and joy.

This is a good life. A good season.

Advertisements

8 thoughts on “Good

  1. You are so right, it is a good life and it would do me GOOD to remember that more often. Thanks for the beautiful reminder!

  2. I love this time of year too. It can be almost magical. SO glad you were able to take some time to slow down and enjoy your family and the beautiful weather.

  3. It IS a good life! It is always a good life, even when it doesn’t feel like that! There is always the sun, or the wind, or the rain, or cuddles, or smiles, or the smell of good food cooking. I’m currently learning (being taught, kicking and screaming) that there is grace in every season. Grace when the hot wind blows. Grace when the rain pours down. Grace when the little wildflowers blossom. Grace when rain clouds threaten. There is grace in all of it, and I need to teach myself to see it.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: