The storm came in hard and fast rolling right over our yard and house and disappeared just as quickly. All that was left was the menacing cloud hanging overhead like in a cartoon. The afternoon sun was already peeking out from its edge, illuminating the last rain drops and rendering the world in HDR. (High Dynamic Range, i.e. super colorful and detailed, for all you non – photography nerds).
Inside, Jake was giving me grief. His pitiful cries were not quite so pitiful after 30 minutes straight, and my frustration level had reached a climax. I snatched him up and walked outside to sit with him on the swing on our patio. I knew that being outside always calmed him down, but it never ceases to amaze me how quickly it happens. He, of course, wanted to stand up so he could peak over my shoulder and over the back of the swing out into the yard.
He instantly became very still. Our patio cover was still dripping heavily, creating a curtain of water drops. I looked up at him as he was standing in my arms and I saw an expression of pure wonder. His eyes were big, his lips, slightly parted. In that moment, time slowed down. I swear, it was like someone had pressed a slow motion button. For a few seconds that seemed completely out of time, I felt his wonder. I felt the soft breeze rolling over our skin and heard the rhythmic song of the dripping rain drops. I saw the beauty he was seeing. I saw the incredible colors all around, the crisp details of every blade of grass, the mesmerizing movement of the leaves. I saw everything new again as if I had just been given eyes. And I laughed. I laughed from deep within with a joy I had forgotten.
I was given chance to marvel at, for a few moments, how amazing it must be for children! To see new things, incredibly amazing things, to touch and hear and discover for the first time every wonder of this world.
Take a second, or two, every once in a while and let your children show you the joy of our lives.
