I am walking home with Sasha from Tony’s school. It is 9am and the morning is a big sparkling diamond. “Let’s walk home this way, Mom.” Sasha points to a street with a tree that looks like a red shredded umbrella with pink flowers all over. He loves that tree. He loves flowers and leaves and twigs. Every day I get them as gifts. When we don’t have to hurry Sasha discovers an entire world of wonders. We walk up the street, pass the red umbrella tree and stop in front of a carpet of big leaves. They have dew on them, perfect little clear spheres of liquid life.
Tony is at a Scouts’ camp this weekend. By himself, for the first time. There are some parents there, mostly dads, to supervise, of course, and there are leaders. No mom or dad though. He is excited, I am too. And if he’s worried at all, he doesn’t show and if I am at all, I don’t show it either. I know it’s good for him to go. And I know he’ll have adventures and live to tell the story.
We’re on our way to Deering Island Park, another stop on the banks of the river that stole my heart last summer. It’s a way away from where we live and it’s downhill, which is enjoyable for now but I fear some mumbling and grumbling on our way back. Not to worry, we cross that bridge when we get there, I tell the boys. They ride their bikes and I run alongside. It’s cloudy and crisp, I like it. The boys keep getting off their bikes to pick dandelions and spring bells. “These are for you, Mom.” For me. It’s Mother’s Day, of course.