I put on my coat and boots, to go help move more firewood in, and she was rushing about, "Where are my boots?", and then found them and began tugging them on. She was tying her boots, coat on but unzipped, when I walked out the door, to fill the wheelbarrow. I had dumped a few loads down to the pile when she came out, coat zipped, and asked, "What should I play?" After a short back and forth of ideas, our yard is deep with snow, and she didn't put on snowpants, she asked "Can I just play in the driveway?" to which I replied, "sure".
Our driveway is pretty long, we are far from the dirt road on which we live, and even the plowed area is essentially still snowcovered. As she walked along, she called "Can I go on the hill?" The hill is about 100 feet from our house, and as I answered "yes" it sort of struck me that she even thought to ask, it is just halfway down our driveway. Then I thought about this youngest one, who always seems to have someone, me, her dad, one or both of her brothers, to do things with and I wonder for a moment that she actually has an opportunity to be a little independent in her own way.
The sky is grey and leaking a few flakes into the cold air as I stand and watch her trod along in her insulated boots and winter coat, with her hair hanging long over the hood in back, and I realize I want to write about this moment or thought, but I am not really sure what it is exactly. She is only gone minutes when she returns to the house. As I type, hours later snow has only lightly covered our vehicles and is still falling, now from the black sky outside my window, and I wonder if my little girl gets enough time to just be with herself, or if she will one day learn to enjoy it. . .
Our driveway is pretty long, we are far from the dirt road on which we live, and even the plowed area is essentially still snowcovered. As she walked along, she called "Can I go on the hill?" The hill is about 100 feet from our house, and as I answered "yes" it sort of struck me that she even thought to ask, it is just halfway down our driveway. Then I thought about this youngest one, who always seems to have someone, me, her dad, one or both of her brothers, to do things with and I wonder for a moment that she actually has an opportunity to be a little independent in her own way.
The sky is grey and leaking a few flakes into the cold air as I stand and watch her trod along in her insulated boots and winter coat, with her hair hanging long over the hood in back, and I realize I want to write about this moment or thought, but I am not really sure what it is exactly. She is only gone minutes when she returns to the house. As I type, hours later snow has only lightly covered our vehicles and is still falling, now from the black sky outside my window, and I wonder if my little girl gets enough time to just be with herself, or if she will one day learn to enjoy it. . .
4 comments:
What a great moment to capture - and I love the reason you wanted to write about it.
So much to wonder about with little ones, isn't there? I so appreciate your willingness to grab and write about a moment, even when you don't what "what it is exactly." THAT's the heart of doing this, isn't it?? HOoray for you!
So many moments with my kids each day... I want to capture. I'm glad you did!
WOW, I paused just a moment to remember the little girl who used to live at my house. What a gift to give her time to learn to be by herself, to love herself.
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