My reminder

One of my favorite things is watching my children happily playing in the yard, completely content with themself and their world. The above picture is of A&A enjoying our backyard in Alabama years ago. Now D is at that age where he wants to spend the whole day out. In fact, if he isn't out he isn't happy; a lot of clinging, whining, and screaming. . . Even so, I'm trying not to look past this stage, because I know it goes so quickly. So outside we go, leaving inside work undone. I'm trying to be ok with my piles of dishes, the clutter on my countertop, and my sticky, crumbly kitchen floor. Because right now I get to watch his blonde little head bobbing around the yard; all around the playset, down the gravel, up and over the rocks, through the grass, onto the deck and over again. . .






I think back to when AP and AJ were in this stage, and as hard as it was, I miss it. I want it back. But instead I'll enjoy the time I have now. This poem is my reminder:

Child of Air

R.L. Stevenson

As from the house your mother sees

You playing round the garden trees,

so you may see if you will look,

through the windows of this book

another child far, far away

and in another garden play

but do not think you can at all

by knocking on the window call

that child to hear you

He intent is all on his play-business bent

He does not hear, he will not look

nor yet be lured out of this book

For, long ago the truth to say

He has grown up and gone away

And it is but a child of air

that lingers in the garden there