I just wanted to go for a walk. A real, soul-nurturing walk. After two days of runny noses, hacking coughs, and far too much TV, I wanted the the little ones and I to get re-connected - to each other, and to nature. They started out excited about the idea. They wanted to explore the woods, too! But by the time I got their mittens and hats and sweaters on, the oldest had endured another coughing fit, and decided he was far too tired to walk. He wanted a plain old "fresh air" walk and to sit in the stroller.
I persisted. My soul was calling me to the woods, and any other type of walk just wouldn't do. I managed to convince them to "try" the walk. We would take as many rests as necessary, but the woods was the destination. They very begrudgingly agreed to try. I added the ergo to my outfit, ready to carry either the big brother (4) or little sister (almost 2).
We walked up the hill to the trail (translation- I walked, carrying the 4 year old on my back and the 2 year old in my arms). Then we sauntered down the easiest part of the trail, talking. I found myself more candid with them than usual, sharing with them how the woods made my heart come alive. How sometimes I just had to get back to see the trees and the leaves and the branches, hear the animals alive and active. I don't know how much they heard, but my son sat down after 5 minutes of sauntering, too tired to go on. I had a destination in mind, but there were other forces at play here. He just couldn't do it. I felt frustrated, but knew this was just the way it was today. I stood on the path, closed my eyes, and breathed deeply to keep the frustration from spilling over into angry words or more "convincing." I breathed deeply of the forest air in the fall. It felt good, so I kept my eyes closed and breathed for a few minutes. The kids were quiet, just being, too. When I opened my eyes, I found exactly what I had been looking for--my sacred place in the woods. There with my children, it was revealed. It wasn't the destination or the walk I had planned, but there it was. My heart filled with joy and gratefulness.
There is nothing like the way the light plays with the branches on the way to the forest floor. I find the interplay especially magical in the fall-somehow the waning light lends it more beauty. I saw the squirrels starting to gather for winter, and so many nooks and crannies in the trees that still play with my imagination after all these years--a cave, a house, a fairy hideout.
We didn't make the walk much longer, but my son picked up a stick and started imagining a pirate flag. I got to breathe while he rested again, and then we walked the short way down the path back to our cozy nest. It wasn't a long walk, but it didn't matter. Sometimes I don't have to walk far to find what my soul needs.
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