I walk out my front door and begin to jog slowly. She rides
next to me on her bike. Then she looks over to me and smiles. We move over
grass and along the sidewalks, then down the steep hill in our
neighborhood. Ahead of us her sister rides with the wind in her hair. Swerving
with a certain rhythm, she glides down the quiet street. It’s summer now and the
air is warm from the sun raining down. A gentle breeze blows on our backs.
We stop at the playground. They spun there on tire swings as
toddlers. Tether ball, basketball, soccer, kite flying, skateboarding. We’ve
done them all there over the years. I stretch and they squeeze in a few minutes
on what is now just little kid’s stuff. We move on, through next neighborhood.
They roll while I run. We cruise past the young families, strollers. My
youngest watches her sister, but stays close to me. Stopping when I lag. I feel
no pressure to run faster, just a desire to absorb the moments.
These are the moments.
