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.