Today was another absolutely beautiful day. The last two weeks have been unbelievably perfect. The kind of weather I could live with on a permanent basis – 70’s, clear blue sky, cool at night and in the mornings, no humidity. Heaven!
So while out enjoying the day, the kids and my mom and I were busy raking leaves and hauling them on a tarp to the back of our property. As I was returning from one of the hauls, Taggart ran up to me with what I thought was going to be a muddy worm or a dead mouse our something equally icky.
And then I heard him say, “I think it’s the last one of the season.” He was holding out one tiny little purple flower for me – from the vinca that grows around one of our trees by the bridge.
This seven-year-old boy of mine who did not want to help in the yard and who cannot seem to refrain from antagonizing his sister for more than a few minutes, seems to intuitively know when he has pushed me to my limit. He brings himself back from the brink of my mad-at-him-craziness to fully redeem himself - all with the gift of one tiny purple flower.
That little glimmer of sweetness is so good, so necessary. It reminds me that my boy is tender and sensitive inside his growing, bustling, noisy body. That sensitive side balances him – and it grounds me. It will serve him well. My heart is happy . . . how I do love that boy.
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