Evan and I went exploring in the field. The field slopes fiercely. It’s lumpy and bumpy. There are – or were – no paths. A wild wonderland for an intrepid boy with an imagination.
We clambered upwards. We examined flowers. We picked some for mummy.
We measured ourselves against the tall grasses. We made a little den and hid. We jabbered and chattered the whole way through. Words tumbled out like a torrent over a waterfall. Every sight, every thought exclaimed over and shared. We were brave explorers. We didn’t complain when a nettle caught us unawares. Time had no place here; we were utterly absorbed in the experience, he and I.
I say ‘we’ although of course, I did none of these things. But I lived them vicariously. I merely followed in awe, greedily gathering to my heart every moment of this precious alone time with my eldest grandson. A small boy in a large field on a sunny day: captured on camera but still more vividly etched on my soul. The simplest of activities. The most precious of memories.
We made it to the far side, he and I.
It occurs to me that on this day two months ago B and I had just arrived here.
Look how far we’ve come.
The view from here is priceless.