I watched the sun set over the fence the other day. The snow was purple, the sky crimson pinks and reds, seen through the dark lacing fingers of the maples. As I stood watching I felt a thin little boy lean against me.
"It's beautiful," he whispered quietly, respectfully, and then he screamed, "Nick, come quick, the sun's setting and it's really cool!"
Nick lumbered in, interrupted and skeptical, and his face lit up and he sighed. Together they watched - two minutes, five? I don't know, I don't think it was my Time. As you may suspect, the sunset spread even more gloriously, more purples, pinks, and ink black trees. It was the perfect few minutes to watch a sunset.
And I missed it. But, it wasn't my sunset. It was for Nick and Zack. And I watched them watching their sunset, and it was more beautiful than any setting sun or rising moon I have ever seen. I watched their cheeks blush in the reflected blazing light, I saw the branches and fence rails sketched perfectly in the bright shine of their eyes. I sensed a momentary, uncommon, welcome calmness in them, a stillness. It was like seeing a sacrament. It is most holy to watch the face of a child as they come closer to grace.
And then Nick screamed, banshee-like, shoved Zack and ran away with Zack on his tail. Balance. I get that.
I've come to realize that I may do that more often than I knew. For instance, when Zack left this on the table and I randomly looked at it before I sent it on its way, I didn't see what it is - an odd trading card sort of thing that the boys do... a lot - but rather, I saw what it represented. Imagination. Creativity. Whimsy. Hope.
Oh, my... Do you ever inappropriately crack up when everyone is being serious?
I just did.
He seems to be a nameless "Root Dragon" and his magical power is "Control weather Lokate hidden paths." That's handy, and sort of obscure. He can "throw voice" and, there in fine print, "See future." Wow. His battle cry is "AAiia" and his scared cry is the sad, elongated, "Eroobababa." I pretty sure his carved from a burl.
On the reverse side are some notes he took, before he made the trading
Now, this is all very interesting and informative and creative, but what got me off track was that blocked out writing in the center. It's Nick's handwriting and it says "Shockwave SuperCyborg livestock from outer space." I can't imagine why. But I think it's hilarious and silly and somehow perfect.
I really don't see how I can get back on track now. Nick drew these two fish and, well, I wondered what they were doing. He said they were "hugging" and they most certainly are. My son drew a picture of fish hugging - oddly, that pleases me.
I was planning on talking poetically and deeply about this one. On the importance of education, how Z seems to get that; about podiums and perspective; about pomp and circumstance; about... Yeah, it's a "CYCLOPS Gradiation" and one-eyed-Groucho-dude got a cigar diploma. Silly is as silly does.
And, the other day, this happened when I was splitting wood.
A piece of cedar split into the two halves above. One had two knotholes...
...and the other had the stumps of two small branches:
The two fit together like, well, your imagination will do, yes, a yin and a yang. I set them aside because I thought they were beautiful, elemental, worthy.
The other day Nick found them leaning against the porch woodpile, and, in seconds, had put the two together marveling at how they snugged together so sweetly. He showed it to Zack and they both thought it was cool, as I had.
And then, I had the honor of watching Nick's face as the wonderful realization came over him, and I watched him say, "it's the colors of a snowy sunset."
Indeed. Grace landed nicely I'd say. Two moments of beauty linked, by a child. My child. Your child. Every child.
From Marci's "...... things you don't expect to hear from the backseat ..."
"Well, too bad, you're going to have to live with me for most of my life ."
That's just harsh...
It's nice when you stop by, even if I am chopping wood on the porch, I still appreciate it. I am sorry it got silly there in the middle, these things happen.