watermelon moon

a few nights ago, i got to imagine. i got to imagine as i looked up at the night sky, at the sliver of a moon hanging there precariously, residing over the darkness. i got to imagine with a three year old all the things that sliver of a moon could be. could it be a smile? could it be a watermelon? or an apple slice? i talked with this preschooler about the moon as if there were nothing more important in the world to be talking about. it makes me think of the story "the little prince."

"grown-ups like numbers. when you tell them about a new friend, they never ask questions about what really matters. they never ask: 'what does his voice sound like?' 'what games does he like best?' 'does he collect butterflies?' they ask: 'how old is he?' 'how many brothers does he have?' 'how much does he weigh?' 'how much money does his father make?' only then do they think they know him." (the little prince, antoine de saint-exupery, p. 10)

it seems lately that the most beautiful, the most profound moments in my life revolve around children. here i was marveling at the moon with a child, marveling at how uniquely he sees the world. and it was nothing extraordinary to him, he was just seeing the world as only a child can. and i was honored to be invited in to that world. daily i am amazed by children. my breath is stolen as i watch a child take his first steps and soon learn to run. i am humbled as i get to watch a child begin to understand and explore the world around her. and i am honored to be allowed in to those most precious of moments.

haikus for today

a day full of rain
glowing kids to remind me:
im grateful for life.

chili and quinoa
warmth to my fingers and toes
the end of monday.

Magical Watch

So, being a consistent blogger maybe isn't my forte. Not yet at least. As it is, blogging is an intentional choice to reflect openly on the life I am living and what I see in that life. Oftentimes, reflecting is exhausting and at the end of the day, it is the last thing I want to do. And yet, here I am at 10:30 pm after a long day at work, choosing to stop for a moment and write.

On the bus home, a little boy got on with his grandmother. He was about four years old and was wearing a hat with Mario on it. He was your classic talkative child. Just a little bit before they got off the bus, he turns to his grandmother and tells her about this great idea he has had about a watch that would "disappear them home" by the touch of a button. Right around bedtime, he could press this button and it would "disappear them home" and then they wouldn't have to ride the bus. Brilliant.

I love the dreams and ideas of children. Kids are unstoppable because they have not lived long enough to have been told that they can't do something or that something is impossible. I think this is the quality I love most in children. And I wish adults allowed ourselves to live this way: as if nothing could stop us, as if anything is possible. I can only imagine what our world could be if our childhood dreams had never been shot down. If we had never seen hurt and failure. If we had never learned the words "I can't".

I want to live my life like the boy on the bus who wants to invent this magical watch. I mean, what could it hurt? Children are the most carefree, joyful beings I have encountered. They truly believe anything is possible. We could all stand to be a little (or a lot) more like them.