We started traveling with him almost from the moment he was born, so I never hear things like "are we there yet?". But he's a little kid with a little bladder, so I did hear things like "I got to go potty" - and by that, he means now.

But the path to my friend's house in western Illinois was decidedly not paved with McDonald's. It was almost an hour on country roads once we exited the highway; it was farms and fields and cows and corn and, yes, at one point I think I saw a surrey with the fringe on top.

Luckily, we did keep finding potties just in time.

Then, finally, we found the "s" curve at the bottom of my directions. The nearly-hidden driveway that pulled up the steep hill. And we came to a stop right in front of the red barn. Bear looked at me and announced (as he eagerly pulled off his seat belt) "Mom! I like this place!"

5 rampaging boys made immediate friends. Through dog licks, kitten scratches, water fights, a wasp sting, bruises, running, screaming rounds of tag, tears, giggles, sharing, not sharing, stops for snacks and clothing changes, and the periodic shout to behave from my friend or I.... it was a wonderful time.

She and I had hours to visit, to chat or just sit and sip, to prepare dinner and do the chores of life, to marvel at how far our lives have come since college so long ago.

It was a whole 'nother day by the time I pulled into our driveway - in more ways than one.

By then, many decisions had begun to settle in my heart. As I watched CD carry our sleeping son to bed, the chubby hands instinctively wrapping into his father's hair, I knew the magic of the trip had worked on me. As I followed behind with the blankie and the luggage into the cool rooms, I knew the words would keep.

I took a deep breath, already missing the country air.

Now comes the work of setting vision to action. But in that moment, I was still in the medicinal peace of a day away. To a place I hope to go back again, soon.

When we hit that road, hell fer leather,
Cats and dogs'll dance in the heather,
Birds and frogs'll sing all together and the toads will hop!
The wind'll whistle as we rattle along,
The cows'll moo in the clover,
The river will ripple out a whispered song,
And whisper it over and over:
Don't you wisht y'd go on forever?
Don't you wisht y'd go on forever?
Don't you wisht y'd go on forever and ud never stop
In that shiny, little surrey with the fringe on the top!
- written by Oscar Hammerstein II, music by Richard Rodgers, originally from the musical "Oklahoma!" (1943).

Posted by: Elizabeth at 05:57 AM | Comments (5) | Add Comment
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This has been a very dry summer but today we got some massive thunderhead action and finally, after hours of opressive humidity, we got rain.

I was running with Bear to the van after picking him up from camp, the sky opening up and the wind buffeting us. We held hands as we jogged to the parking lot and he shouted to me that the rain was good. That God and the Angels were watering the flowers.

"And the tomatoes," I said.

"Well," he yelled. "Maybe not the tomatoes. Just the flowers. And the grass."

"But not my tomatoes? Or the basil?"

"No! God and the Angels like chocolate!"

Go figure.

Posted by: Elizabeth at 10:27 AM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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The last time we took Bear to the doctor's, we were still in the position of translating and advocating for him. The Dr. asked where it hurt, and Bear would point to his throat, and CD or I would say "Well, he began running a fever on Staurday and then yesterday he started having trouble swallowing..."

This morning, we touched the future again. As we did the first time someone rang the doorbell looking to play with Bear, as we did the first time we dropped him off at carpool instead of parking and walking him into his classroom.

He answered all the doctor's questions.

He knew how old he was, and where it hurt, and that he didn't want the doctor to use a tongue depressor ('They make me sick'). He knew when to lift his shirt and suck in a breath, and how to hold quiet and still for his blood pressure.

All CD and I did was nod.

She was a new doctor for Bear, but by the end of the visit he was complimenting her. He told her how he used to not like planes, but now they were fine. And that maybe he felt the same way about doctor visits.

When we filled out the paperwork, CD asked me how much Bear had weighed and how long he'd been at birth.

I couldn't believe he'd forgotten.

To CD, it's been almost 5 years. So much has happened and now, here we are, parents of a rough and tumble preschooler on the verge of so much independance.

To me, it was all just yesterday that he was a wriggling curious infant with curious blue eyes and a shock of red hair. I look and listen to our son with awe, and realize how much has happened in the blink of an eye.

Which is probably why I misted up tonight when "100 Years" came on the radio.

The sea is high
And I'm heading into a crisis
Chasing the years of my life

Posted by: Elizabeth at 09:44 AM | Comments (4) | Add Comment
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1 Isn't it strange how they start acting like little adults! Men are just forgetful and women can't be because then no one would know the answers!

Posted by: Melissa at July 13, 2005 02:06 AM (SGhcn)

2 This sounds like the Princess' last yearly DR check-up. I was busy wrangling my Bear and the DR just chatted with the Princess. It was great.

Posted by: Grace at July 13, 2005 04:19 AM (F9hhp)

3 I can;t even remember their names anymore! I'm certain one of them is named "dammit".

Posted by: Genuine at July 13, 2005 08:31 AM (W9UXV)

4 I remember feeling that lump in my throat when our kiddo was turning into her own little self when it came to the doctor. She marched right in there and up onto the examination table. No help ... no coaxing needed. When the doctor came in she was all business. They grow up too fast .. .way way too fast. And then, in a split second, they throw a tempertantum the likes you've never witnessed before because you didn't pop out more children closer in age to her so that she'd had playmates at her disposal. And then you remember how not grown they still are. *hug* For all of the other stuff that's been going on. I feel you on the living in a house that is in a constant state of construction and destruction. I dream of moving out of this home but James keeps telling me that we need to stay until he finishes all of the projects .... I don't really want to fast forward 15 years and see that the bathroom is still green sheetrock.

Posted by: Michele at July 13, 2005 03:49 PM (+I0xC)

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