The Wonder

(a FFF post)

Yesterday was, in true Winnie-the-Pooh fashion, a rather blustery day. The wind was kinda crazy, and we kept the doors to the house shut so that the wind didn't burst through the house at random intervals. You know how it does that? It takes you unawares, and you'll end up looking outside, like a crazy person, wondering what just happened, until you realize it was just the wind, and then you have to say it outloud to yourself, "It was just the wind," so that you know ghosts don't exist.

The wind, seemingly, also brought in the cooler air. I appreciate that, as I have been longing for Fall weather. Finally, it is here!

That meant, though, that I didn't want to mow the lawn. Mowing the lawn is a Summer job, not a Fall job. But, since it had rained continuously for a week previous, the lawn desperately needed cut. So I put on a sweatshirt and headed outside.

We bag our grass clippings and put them in a compost pile in the backyard, and since the grass was so long, I made many trips to the compost pile. During one of those trips my 3-year-old son, Tank, walked out to me. I didn't hear him coming because of the noise from the wind. The wind would almost die down, and then it would pick up again, rattling all the trees in the neighborhood.

Tank looked at me and said, "Mom, I'm scared." I looked at him, trying to figure out what he was scared of. It was a beautiful day: blue skies, white puffy clouds. What's to be scared of? He answered, "There are trees everywhere."

I almost laughed at that. I knew what he'd meant: "It's a windy day today!" But instead, he'd said, "There are trees everywhere," and so images of trees with sharp teeth and long grabbing hands filled my mind. Like the trees in cartoons that come to life at midnight and grab you while you're in a fright and you collapse on the ground and cry until daylight reveals that the things that tortured you through the night were only trees all along.

I watched as Tank's wide eyes scanned the swaying trees. And I was transported back to my own childhood. Days filled with climbing trees and watching bugs. Days of imagination and wonder. Days when I, too, would have said that "there are trees everywhere."

I was grateful, then, to have 3 children who constantly remind me of all the wonder in the world. Sometimes, adults forget such simple, profound things.