Walking down the steps into our backyard, my bare feet hit our freshly mowed grass without fanfare. But Jack’s feet take each step deliberately, carefully, as he scales the steps proudly and independently.
It’s Sunday afternoon.
Miles makes import of the fact that he is putting on his big-boy shoes, newly purchased in advance of the school year. Shoes that, if he is to be believed, help him to run faster and jump higher. He throws on a fireman’s hat, sheriff’s badge, and superhero cape for good measure, and then bounds into our backyard after his enemies.
I’ve spent a good amount of the afternoon so far in front of an unforgiving screen, pounding away at endless work, and am grateful for the respite. As my toes stretch out in between the green blades and my ears hear imaginary battle cries, I come back to life—back to the most important things.
The water is lovely today, I think.