less traveled

The summer cicadas were singing songs in the trees high above us while below we played hide-and-seek in the lingering heat of the day. Sean and I had taken Beckett and Marlowe to our seemingly private park across the street to run off the final bursts of hidden energy before bed. The park was established in 1908 and the trees must be at least as old. The large canopy of oaks and maples allow the dappling of sun to play along with us in the grass. We go there to watch the moon rise, wish upon a star, and go owl-ing. We go there to look for the rainbow after a rain, to build fairy houses, to ride the Pine Tree Locomotive to Dreamland to slay dragons and giants. Tonight we rolled above the cracked earth reminding us of this summer's drought. While Beckett danced one of his silly dances I noticed a butterfly floating around him. For the rare moments Beckett stood still, this butterfly would try to land on him. Beckett would get a little nervous about how close this little creature was flying and his feet would start to go. The butterfly would fly back up into the leaves but would be right back to Beckett as if he was playing tag with him, tapping him on his shoulder, tugging at his curls. A beautiful dance to watch. No matter how silly and wiggley Beckett was, though, this butterfly would not be scared away. This is where he wanted to be. And Beckett is who he wanted to be with. I told Beckett to lay down on his back, belly up, towards the sky. Down in the grass my boy pounced, like a tiger, rolled over, giving his belly up for a perch. That silly butterfly danced around his head and then quietly, softly, landed on his chest looking right into his curious hazel eyes. I held my breath for him. Quiet. Still. Magic. We were enveloped in the moment. It stretched out for seconds and then minutes. It felt like it would last forever, until Beckett couldn't hold back the fidgets any longer. He popped up and laughed chasing his new tiny friend around. The butterfly actually flew down and gave him a real life butterfly kiss on his nose, making Beckett rub the tickle away, and when we looked back up to find the little papillon, he was gone. Whatever life stage we find ourselves in, it always seems to feel like it will always be the way it is. Sometimes they are challenging times that feel never ending, sometimes it is pure bliss that will surely last forever. Like the constant river that runs behind our house, our condition seems perpetual, permanent. Yet really it is always changing. Each droplet of water in that river is traveling by but for a minute. It's fleeting. It flutters. Just like the butterfly. Just like the childhood of my babes. These sacred days with my children remind me that there really are no ordinary moments. To enjoy them all. To be ever present. Because I know one day there will be a last butterfly kiss, I will open my eyes, and then they will suddenly be gone.

This morning I woke up with a terrible tummy ache. B wanted to know if it was a new day.

"Yes, it's a new day, darling," I said.

"Then let's get up!"

I said," I need to lie here a minute because I have a tummy ache."

B reached down and lifted up my shirt, kissed my belly and said,

"There! That kiss will soak right in and make your tummy feel better then the tummy ache will come right out of your poopeck (czech for belly button) and go right out into nature (waving arms around and motioning to the bedroom windows). Is it working yet?"

How I love you.

We loaded up the kids and headed out to Estes for some mountain air. We didn't go last year because I was too busy with work, but we made it out this year and also celebrated Mom's 70th birthday there! The drive through Big Thompson canyon made my heart swell. We hit it just right and the color that remained from autumn was surprising and stunning while the setting sun backlit the yellow aspen leaves while we marveled. We were following out Mom and Jon and they pulled over at the cherry cider shop. I ran to mom and we just held each other. We had tears because of the overwhelming beauty. How lucky we felt to be there-with each other. I love you so, my dear mother.
My brother came out for a few days with his family for the celebratory festivities. The weather was warm and sunny. Unseasonably so. The we got some unseasonably early snow, but it was gorgeous. We managed to get out to the park everyday. After the big snow (22inches) we went into the park and did some sledding on the old slopes. It was a perfect hill and we didn't have to share with anyone. We all pitched in to make a yummy meal that we took down to the dining room in the main lodge, again, this time of year it's like we own the entire place. We had a fire blazing and the kids could run around as we sat overlooking downtown Estes Park. Out for dinner to celebrate Mom's big 70, back to the lodge for cake and ice cream and some hot toddies. We did one long adventurous hike up into the mountains packing the kids through the snow. It was breathtaking. I left my cards at home and did not take one single photograph this trip. Sad. I hope I remember all of it.Oh! We also did a little sledding at the lodge where Beck and Marlowe loved seeing Mom and Dad pull their sleds through the parking lot all out of breath. I don't want to forget about that. Can't wait to see you next year Colorado! I miss the mountains already.