scribblechic

This is the secret I’ve come to appreciate of fifteen and eleven – for all the fiery independence of their age, both children still clamor for borrowed time.

Some days I forget how little effort that takes.

This morning I leashed our dog and invited myself along for the short walk to their bus stop. Not because either child needed me, but because I could. There was no obligation to intervene in their time together and no vote to challenge my whim. There was also no resistance to my company.

The lawn crackled its protest against our footprints as we cut a path around the ice that mocked our cautiousness. Together we marveled at the pattern of stars scattered across the sidewalk as the moon lit the snow and ice with magic. Little clouds of happy exclamations against the crisp winter air.

I had forgotten how much there is to see and hear in the fleeting moments before dawn. So often I watch both children lingering distractedly over invisible interests, wondering at their amusement, but today I let myself entertain their discoveries.

Minutes stretched in frivolous excess, turning nothing much into something extraordinary for the effort.

As both children boarded their bus I turned my footsteps to walk my afternoon path in reverse; waving one last goodbye as the bus circled the neighborhood en route to school.

Stealing a moment for myself.