The rain splattered tears on the kitchen window. . . Sad to see summer really ending, and the leaves blanketing our backyard playground. I could feel every moment. And something quiet reminded me to take it all in. . . breathe the seconds passing on kite tails in the blowing wind. . . Feel the slowness of the starting day. . . And it just felt cozy. . .
I peeked out Jack's window at the dark sky, and woke him with whispers about Harry Potter. And then tiptoed to Luke's room. . . Good morning, my love. He is slow to wake because he coughed half the night with our shared headcold.
Breakfast and chatter. Watching Arthur on PBS. Making lunches.
Watching Ethan (who has finished his breakfast bottle), turn and slide out of his chair.
He crawls slowly to the fridge to munch on refrigerator letters and unused bubble wands.
Watching his boys (those big brothers)intently.
Waiting for the craziness to begin.
Making the most of the minutes before school calls them away. Playing Ants in the Pants with Luke on the kitchen floor. Reading a few pages from Harry Potter with Jack.
And backpacks, Lunch boxes.
Sitting on the front porch watching for the school bus down the hill. We play I Spy. And talk about the world. Luke runs to the puddle in the sand and talks of sailing a boat after school. I look at his dirty knees and sandy shoes. So Luke. And I smile.
A rumble up the hill.
Promises of a good day.
And I watch until the tailights are beyond my sight.
And I walk back to the porch. Seeing the ivy growing up the side. The footprints from the boys are starting to dry and fade.
Our home. Our moments.
And I walk into the quiet.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
He wants to know why. . .
Why there are rules like don't wear hats in school. And how does not wearing a hat show respect to the flag.
He wants to know why we have technology. Why we can't live like cavemen. And keep the world a healthy, beautiful place.
He wants to know why everyone isn't free. Why they can't just say, we are free, and it be so. And if he can become president and tell all they people they are free.
He is a beautiful idealist. He sees the world full of possibilities. As people all deserving the rights and freedoms that he loves.
He has a beautiful, kind spirit. And is full of hope.
He is full of creativity. And spirit. Believes that the world should be a certain way and thinks he can will it to be so (by the shear force of his will). He sees the world a little differently. With humor and fresh eyes.
And for as many times as he makes us groan in frustration, he makes us roar with gut splitting laughter.
He designs in his mind. And builds fabulous, complicated creations. And artistic mind and temperment.
He loves a pencil. . .a pen. . .a marker. . . Loves to draw. And write. The stories he comes up with (on and off paper). Using new words he's learning at school in his writings. And numbers. Creating his own world.
He is full of love. He gives his hugs and kisses freely. . .especially to his little brother, that he loves fiercely.
He is ready for exploration. And to be big. He pulls himself up. Loves for you to hold his fingers so he can walk around. Follows the big people around the house all day long. For companionship. Wants to be up. To see the world tall.
Loves to laugh. Loves to make those big brothers of his laugh. Spits. Makes loud sounds. Just to get their attention.
Loves to push around cars. And make vrooming noises.
Wants cuddled. Grabs his own nip when he wants it, turning it just so, and putting it in himself. Finding leftover cracker bits in his chair for snackin.
Ready for the world.