"There were 38 sharks, 28 dolphins. How many didn't?" (the answer is 18)
The constant stream of puns and clever plays on words are a part of every day life in this household. Declan is insufferably clever and he spurs his brothers into an almost constant banter. Even the most serious conversations are potential.
These boys are each turning into men before my eyes. THE MOST kind, lovable, intelligent, and yes, witty men I know. They each approach life in their own stride - one at a full gallop, one at a mellow trot, one cautiously and one mostly somersaulting his way into it. They may be at different speeds and moving to their own unique tunes, but they are side by side. This little band of brothers love one another with the same fierce intensity that sometimes erupts in other less desirable areas. There are windows where the winds of irritation, grumbling and general annoyance blow in stronger. But they always land in the same place and carry on hand in hand. I have reminded them since they were tiny tikes that the gift(s) they have in one another is one of the greatest gifts they will ever have and it will be for a lifetime if they choose to value it, care for it, nurture it and build into it all of their days.
Life alongside Lochlan is akin to life on the open sea. The waves can be extreme and emotionally/mentally dangerous. The sea is filled with 1 million (well, probably many billions) of unknowns both great and terrifying. We are in a tiny raft doing our best. But for the grace of God! The brothers never seem to fear, though they do sometimes grow weary. I find myself much more easily overwhelmed and discouraged by the larger waves than any of them are. They consistently and constantly come alongside Lochlan, building him up and encouraging him forward. They hold his feet to the fire when the devil inside him shows it's naughty face, but are ever forward marching, carrying him in their arms. He knows he's loved, but more importantly he knows he's part of this boy band, irrevocably and unequivocally.
As I sit here writing in the studio of my tiny house, I watch three hummingbirds fluttering about, mustering up the courage to approach a red Gerber daisy which sits next to the front door of our little house. Summer happenings are amazing to me; hummingbirds, butterflies, wildflowers, blossoming gardens, baby deer losing their spots, hills of green (in Arizona it's probably not grass, but the start of wild yellow flower plants), brooding monsoon days, our delightful herd of 4 horses running around the field playing games together...
In all this which has been created, I see and am in awe. I took a walk in the near darkness a few nights ago. I could see the silhouette of the Peaks against the almost black sky dotted with stars just starting to be visible. There was the outline of my tree, but it faded as darkness descended. I was reminded that the mountain remains, even in the darkness, even when I cannot see it through the darkness. Morning will come. That is a lesson for me.
