Where I roam, people are very likely to find you ironic, lame, to mock. The worlds of university or adolescence? They are steeped deep in sarcasm. This is a language I am fluent in.
These wonder-bound kids I am raising? They are not. Their language is full of mystery, magic, wonder, awe…they teach me new things.
There has been a lot of exploring done by my family lately. We perched in the widows of hotel towers. We sat on the edge of ferries, and watched the world whizz by jeep widows. We threw rocks in the ocean and found sea glass and other treasures.
The kids have wandered through forests on what we like to call ‘going for an explore’. They ask me questions about leaves changing and fog rolling and how the rain clouds form. They stop every five steps to let sand drizzle through their fingers. I consider rushing them but then remember, this is the greatest gift being a mother has given me: A sense of wonder.
These kids have made everything new again. Every beauty spark, lights a fire in me as I fan it for them to see. I walk slow now, I notice the colours of things, I search for beauty to reveal, for splendor to explain, creation to receive. Today, again, I will just sit back and watch what lights their eyes, and I will slow to enjoy it with them.
Today, I will choose to consider the reckless extravagance of a peacock feather, the design of the hawk as he treads air, consider what helps that bird to fly trusting that knowledge will help me set these babes aloft, and perhaps in that I can also catch a lift. I will have no choice but to be thrown from the seat of mockers to get a glimpse of the great beyond.