These days

Dear Townes & Laszlo,

There are days when the southern county calls to us. We pack the car with extra clothes and wet naps, with granola bars, swim shorts, and towels. We visit the sweet spot where your Papa and I spent many days over the humid, never-ending summer when we first met.

Back then, we hiked barefoot. We swam until the last glimmer of daylight disappeared behind the rocks. We walked along railroad tracks and picked flowers. These days are not so different, except now we have the two of you as our guide.

This year, Townes, you are the most adept I've seen you. You glide with ease over uneven ground that requires of me the most careful footing. You pick me flowers and turn over rocks. You find treasures and creatures: salamanders, mealworms, crayfish, snakes, feathers, and stones. You dip in and out of the water with ease. I barely have to keep an eye on you. You are your own explorer.



Laszlo, you explore in your own way. You gaze up at the sky, notice the birds singing in the trees. We dip your fingers in the water and you look up at us, surprised by the cold. You feel around with your hands, learn to know the feeling of the soft earth under your body. We give thanks that this spring, your body is still small and light, and we are able to carry you back to these sacred spaces where love has grown.

It will not always be this way, I know. These days are unique, but in every instance and circumstance, in every corner of the universe, nothing will ever be the way it was the day before. It is with this knowledge that we make the choice to celebrate this day.

Love forever,
Mama