the flight of a young heart.
Elliott loves to point out things in the sky. The moon! Airplanes! And particularly, birds! I can’t get over his zest for the sky. It’s vast blueness, open up to a universe of untold stories and starry-skied magic. A young person’s mind occupied by curiosity, soaking up sights and allowing their heart to take flight.
I admire this quality in both my kids. Finding wonder in the smallest things. Bits of crayon, sticks, bugs, fallen leaves. The smallest speck of a leaf on the sidewalk can hold great interest for them. An impossible amount of atoms forming plant tissue; oxygen, hydrogen. Hundreds, thousands of microorganisms flurrying about on this speck, planning their own short-lived lives on their tiny, perceived universe. A bit of crunched leaves in the clutches of a chubby little fist, sticky with juice, is pretty insignificant in the scheme of things. Or at least, they seem insignificant. But in the eyes of a young heart, fallen leaves have a story to tell. They grew from a tiny seed, into a beautiful tree, and took flight… on the winds of the vast sky, settling down on a sidewalk. In their resting place they wait, wait to be found by a young, curious heart to greet them with warmth and anticipation before they are crumbled into dust and nothingness.
I know. This probably sounds a bit loopy. And maybe like it’s coming from a place that is uneducated about science (it is). But let’s be real. There are times that I look up into that starry sky and can’t help but feel like I am too living in a speck on someone else’s sidewalk. To be a bird, soaring across the sky by the deliberate use of muscle and bone. To be an airplane, looking down on the earth so far below and carrying several delicate lives just as thrilled with the views. To be the moon, bringing light to the sky and hope to thousands of tear-stained pillow cases. To be a leaf… floating on the wind with a carefree spirit and nowhere in particular to go. We may be small in the scheme of things, but we are all big in purpose and even bigger in heart.
I get it. I get what my kids see. Not just a vastness, but instead, a whole world unexplored. A whole lifetime ahead to realize their potential, and what they want from it. A great big sky, just big enough to jump from the sidewalk… and take flight.