On Saturday evening my kids and I went out for a run. It was beautiful.
We live five minutes from large fields and animals, wide sky above us and jagged mountains hugging our little valley.
I love where I live.
We ran to our favorite spot down by the railroad tracks to watch for a train as we ran beside them and to visit the animals in the fields.
We talked about why it was stinky outside. They learned about manure. We talked about how our poop stinks and that animal poop stinks too.
Simple enough.
We stopped and talked to the cows and admired their beauty. Isaiah reminded me to stay out of the dirty water along the road.
As we made our way home, the sun was streaming across the valley from the west.
It was beautiful.
Inside that stroller I had six little feet and six little hands. I could look down and see the tops of their heads, watch them studying the world.
I knew, just then, that I would always remember moments like that. I knew that I will miss those small little hands and their little voices and their questions and wonder in the world.
We walked as a family that same route yesterday evening, and I told Scott about those impressions from the day before and about what I love about being surrounded by children all day, every day. They constantly remind me of these precious things:
There is endless wonder and beauty in the world.
Life is magical.
The train whistles and helicopters, the slow crawling of a big, black beetle in our flowerbeds, the way that dirt feels in your hands, the sounds the animals make, the sounds of sirens, the way the world looks in different light throughout the day and night.
Everything is something to learn about.
How could you ever be bored?
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