Wednesday, March 21, 2012

Just Write: Too Much

He told me he wanted to walk around the block just us --

no stroller, no bikes, no dad and no brother --

just the two of us walking, holding hands.

We ventured into warm afternoon sun, such a perfect gift during March in Chicago, and we walked the sidewalk lining our neighborhood and talked, his small hand in my own.

How was school?

Eh. I hate learning about the skeletons, mom. They are scary. 

Totally hear you on that one, bud. 

We walked a few more steps and he asked if he could show me something cool he found a day ago while at the park with grandma. He led me down the path to the park, past the slides and swings and over to the trees near the back part of our backyard fence.

A huge limb draped itself atop other smaller trees, making a ramp up to the sky.

He scaled the huge trunk, climbing deftly up to the point where he was higher than my own head and overlooking the surrounding park.

It's like a secret place to see everything you can't see when you're walking, he said.

I asked him what he saw.

Trees, ants, flowers, snakes, grass, people, sun ...

There's too much to name it all, he finally concluded.

We eventually are lured back home by rumbling stomachs.

 What was the best part of your day? I asked

Right now, he said.

And then, for maybe the second time ever, he asked, what's your favorite part of today?

Right now, I agreed.

But somedays, really, there's just to much to name.