Today my youngest son and I went for a walk. A walk that would normally take me 15 minutes, took me over an hour. We began by circling the cottage to find as many species of wildflowers as we could. And with this delightful 2 year-old at my side, it was a careful selection of each flower using color, size and smell as our guide. We got distracted by the neighbours, as they were building a gazebo of sorts, and suddenly our conversation leapt from wildflowers to tools and machinery, and how and why one might use a saw or hammer or measuring tape. And just as quickly, we were back to discussing the different shapes and scents of wildflowers, as we had stumbled upon new kinds on the side of the gravel road we were now on.
“Do you want to walk to the bridge?” I asked. A simple question, but one that spread joy across the face of my wee one. He cocked his precious head to the side, adorned with a bright orange, hand-me-down Tigger hat, causing not only the ears but the tail in the back to bounce. “Oh yes Mommy. Which way is dat bidge?” He asked, extending his hand towards the end of the rocky lane that leads to pavement. “Dis way or dat way?” Indicating right and then left, with a chubby hand full of daisies, buttercups and forget-me-nots. I smiled too, as his quest for knowledge and experience is both admirable and exhausting.
We turned to the left as I explained the importance of holding my hand, even on a quiet, country road. We headed up and over a hill towards the bridge that has always been a fishing spot for my Dad and Brother, and now my Husband and oldest Son. We took our time, pausing in front of the pond to hear the bullfrogs sing, and of course, to collect more flowers for the vase waiting back at my parents’ cottage.
“Can you walk a bit faster?” I asked. He tilted his chin up to meet my eyes. “Why Mommy?” I opened my mouth to speak but found no answer in waiting. Why did we need to speed up? We are now on summer vacation, my boys and I together, settling in to cottage life in the new-to-us Tin Can Cottage. The breeze ruffled the pieces of hair around my temples, the smell of heat and flowers and ocean tickled my nose. And the sweetest pair of chocolate brown eyes searched my face for an answer.
I can’t honestly tell you that every occasion of parenting is like this. I don’t always recognize the potential of the moment. Sometimes I am overtired, impatient, unfair or on auto-pilot. But today I had a brief instant of parental clarity. We had wandered this far with no real purpose except to be together and enjoy the glorious day. Weren’t we doing that? Weren’t we stopping to “smell the roses” and picking a few too? Was there any cause to speed things along? Why Mommy? Why?
“No reason I can think of. Let’s take our time together.” And we ambled down to the bridge to throw rocks in the water. And when that little boy got too tired to make it back, he threw his arms around my neck, inhaled the smell of my hair and said softly, “Fhank ou Mommy (Thank you Mommy)” which was truly all the thanks I needed.
My youngest son has an ambling spirit. He can run like the wind but he never rushes anything. He is thoughtful and deliberate, and he thinks before he speaks. His laughter is loud and deep and long. He sings nonsense songs that make perfect sense. And I am learning a lot from him; to wander and wonder, to meander and take time to really see all that must be seen, together.
iamsomeonesmother 