Childlike Wonder

My mom picked up my sister’s twins, Hannah and Alissa, from school & brought them out to the house today for a visit. They’ve grown since the last time I’ve seen them almost half a year ago it seems like. Their faces have lost the subtle baby-like features. They’re growing into beautiful young ladies, approaching eight years old by the end of the month. I think back just a few summers ago, putting their hair in lopsided pigtail poofies on top of their heads, dressing them in my old tie die shirts they wore like dresses down to their chubby little toes. My hippie babies.

They bounded through the front door, eager to explore their surroundings. The last time they were here was last summer when we swam at the local swimming pool & ate ice cream cones. Like them, the house is also changing with time and they were quick to point out everything that was different from before.

They peered into the library. “What’s going on in here?!” one exclaimed. I explained how I’m in the process of removing the wall paper so I can paint. “Why didn’t you just leave it how it was?” the other asked. I laughed because it’s a very practical thing to say actually, but I stated how I’d like to make it look nicer by the time it’s all done.

They moved quickly down the hallway and stared wide-eyed at the gutted out bathroom. “What happened in here?!” Again I went into an abbreviated explanation of what our plans are & how the plumbing needs redone. They nod in understanding, and I can see the little wheels turning in their heads, trying to make sense of it all.

We walked around outside in the hot, humid air. They pointed to the other places on the property. “What’s in there? What’s that?” They realized that the buildings aren’t as glamours as they seemed on the outside once the doors are open and they see the mess inside. “It smells in here!” and “What are you going to do with all this STUFF?” I have to laugh again at their exasperated expressions. I say how we’re sorting everything and deciding if it could be donated, thrown away or saved and packed in storage.

As we walked the perimeter of the pond, Hannah took notice of the many burn piles we have on the property. “You have a lot of these, like, branch piles around here, don’t you?” Yes, we certainly do. I share about how Uncle Gavin and his friend Homero are cutting down the brush and trees that have grown up along the bank. She nods again in agreement like a little adult. Alissa ventures off to explore, looking back with a playful smile as she creeps down the bank to test out the temperature of the water. I gave her the thumbs up, go ahead. This is what kids need, I thought to myself, to run and play and explore outside in nature. I’ll be the mom that let’s my children play in the mud and splash in puddles.

They’re so curious and their busy minds fire off questions as quickly as they breathe. Likewise, there’s so much I want to share with them. I name each plant and tree we come across, from black walnuts, to oregano and apple trees, to mint leaves. I pluck one off and hand it to whichever is brave enough to try it first. The other quickly wants to try too. They spit it out after a couple chews and I don’t blame them, I did the exact same thing. I think back to when I was little when my dad would pick a mint leaf off for me to try as well.

One at a time, they read aloud working on their homework for school, as we sat under the weeping Katsura tree by the pond. The sun sank slowly over the hill and I thanked God for this beautiful, simple moment. I’ve come to find that it’s not the big events that make up life, but many small instances gently interwoven among each other, making up the days and the months and years in-between.