What Is It Now?

Cement trucks – the coolest thing since sliced bread…for the 2-year-old set.

Gabriel fills our morning commute to school with running commentary about everything he sees.  He’s firmly in his do-you-see-what-I-see phase where everything is Exciting! Magnificent! and Wonderful! 

“Nana!  Nana!  Truck!!  Truck!!”
“Yes, Gabriel.  That is a cement truck.”

30 seconds later.

“Nana! Nana!  Bus!  Bus!!”
“Yes, Gabriel.  That is a school bus.”

15 seconds later.

“Nana!  Nana! – ”

“Yes, Gabriel, I see the red motorcycle.” 

Oops. 

When I meet his eyes in the rear-view mirror, I see not delight at my insight, but confusion at my prognostication.   How did I already know what he was going to say…

My cynical inner monologue wants to tell him that we see a truck, school bus and motorcycle every day.  That tomorrow, barring some black swan event, like an EMP attack or alien invasion – no more late night SF for me – we will see a truck, a bus, and a motorcycle.

But this is the voice that lives in the future.  Not the one who lives in the now.  Not the voice that will meet Gabe where he is, absorbing each moment as it comes to him, sharing in every discovery.

“What else do you see, sweetie,” I nudge gently.  His eyes are still wary, but he turns his head to street then points with gusto.

“Nana!  Nana!  Train!  Train!!”
“Yup.  That’s the Metra train.”

************************************************************************************************************************************************

Mysteries, Yes

Truly, we live with mysteries too marvelous
to be understood.

How grass can be nourishing in the
mouths of the lambs.
How rivers and stones are forever
in allegiance with gravity
while we ourselves dream of rising.
How two hands touch and the bonds
will never be broken.
How people come, from delight or the
scars of damage,
to the comfort of a poem.

Let me keep my distance, always, from those
who think they have the answers.

Let me keep company always with those who say
“Look!” and laugh in astonishment,
and bow their heads.

~ Mary Oliver ~

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