winter walk

Tuesday was balmy by Chicago standards, so after school I cajoled the guys into a walk to the library and the grocery store. Liam forged his own path through the snowy grass. Elliott stuck to the snowless sidewalks but insisted on pulling a sled. Mittenless, he dragged the faded red plastic sled every leg of the journey. Passing drivers smiled at us as we trudged along. Geese flew overhead. Ice occasionally crunched beneath our boots. The day gradually darkened. My snow clomper stuck to his chosen path; my sled puller refused gloves or help. Up and down the hills they trudged, until nearly two hours later we arrived home.

Some days my kids frustrate me. They are irrational. I am irrational. I just want to close up shop or scream. Most days, though, I am awed by them. Their determination, their humor, their sense of adventure and purpose. They grow me and make me smile.

As we took our winter walk I was poignantly reminded that this won't be happening much anymore, this freedom to just gather them up and go out. I'm interviewing for full-time jobs now because more than impromptu afternoon adventures we need a regular salary and benefits and the security consistency brings.

I will miss these moments so much, my heart aches. I wonder if recognizing their eventual loss is part of what makes them so special. And if having fewer moments of simple togetherness, like walks with the stubborn boy pulling the red sled, will make me cherish them even more. That's what I'm hoping.