Footfalls

I stop and hear only the soft patter of 8 small feet in the fallen leaves. The trickle of the river and the chatter of various birds near and far can also be heard, but the footfalls are distinct and resonate in my heart. The footfalls vary so much from one another and are uniquely identifiable. Madigan's footfalls come quickly and their rapid pace rarely ceases; they are much more in the distance from my standing figure. Paugie's are sporadic, reflecting his visits to interesting plants/weeds/flowers along the way. Jevy's are deliberate and heavy, with two speeds: one very fast and the other something akin to molasses. Keddo's are quick... and small... and nearby me; soon they are returning to me, to make sure all is as it should be. 

One thought in this moment: "So much was so different not so very long ago. I know that this too will be different when I again reflect back. How can I savor this day, this hour, this second?" 

Our picnic lunch included a tumble off the bench, a roll in the dust ("because, Mama, I'm a bison, so it only makes sense"), dirt-splattered yogurt (yummy), a nap on the picnic table, splashing in the river, the playful entertainment from a river otter family (including 3 babies!), sun soaking, the discovery of dandelion petals in the wind, a hearty game of chase, wet pants and a dark chocolate candy bar. 

I watch the brothers inspire one another (to both good and bad), help each other along a rough trail, protect one another from perceived danger, disagree and frustrate persistently, and share with one another in the joy of life and it's living. It's hard to call these the "small things" - these easily missed interactions are the continuous miracle (of life) happening as the clock ticks steadily forward and the seasons move from one to the next. 

Tomorrow holds it's own adventure, my Paugie reminded me today. So, I will savor... and move ever forward.