Yesterday, another Sunday, Moses and I slept in and then I went for a run. In the afternoon I went to my monthly writing group and then came home to Josh and Moses, Clark and Asa, all playing in the backyard. Moses a mess. Asa (4 years old) nestled in a hole in the ground he had dug, like a cub. Josh left to go do his Insanity workout, and Moses and I ate dinner.
We walked to the park at the end of the block after dinner. It's spring and the trees are budding, the air warm and breeze, soft. We ambled down the hill of green grass to to the little league field. Moses spent some time walking back and forth over the little gravel path, enjoying the sound of his shoes crunching the rocks.
We walked half-way back up the hill and lied down on our backs in the grass and I pointed to the sky and said, "Sky, Moses, sky. That is the sky. So big." And so he pointed up and said something like, "sky, sky." It was a beautiful, early evening sky of faded blue, and when I stood and looked up the hill at the trees that someone had planted many years ago, that were just beginning to bud for the season, I had that feeling that I sometimes get. It is so beautiful here. And I knew that here, meant Earth and life. Like a bundled ribbon unfurling out of my chest, I felt that fleeting sense of my ending and my beginning and my being all wrapped into one. I could see the world and me in at from some other place, far away. And in that place, whether it be in my mind's eye or my soul or my spirit, I felt and knew only my joy, bursting forth ever-green, ever-hopeful.
Sweet, sweet five years.