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.
