As much as I love our home with it's postage stamp yard, I do miss an abundance of natural space. Bolts of nature's fabric do not roll out before us in our tiny slice of Denver.
It felt so wonderful watching Theo and Sully roam outside all day with freedom and very few mama worries. We had space, the kind of space I had forgotten about living in such close quarters with our neighbors at home. Theo was able to wander when things just got to be too much for him and let off steam in his own way by painting rocks, filling acorns with water for his fairy house, kicking his feet up on a tractor and sipping a cold drink. Sully ran jubilantly or sat for endless moments poking rocks with a stick. Paints were set up on a large rock for the week and whenever the boys wanted they found rocks and other natural objects and painted them, usually to be added to their fairy houses. So much to do and explore. So little time on my part finding things for them to do, which I often feel like I do when we're home.
All this while the leaves gently shook over us like a baby's coos and the loons bellowed out their flute-like tunes from the lake below.
And in all this natural loveliness with our extended family loving my children so much, I felt a deep ache that something very big is missing in our lives.
Of course we cannot simply pick up and move to a property with a charming house and plentiful land right now, so I will do the best with what we have because this is what travel does for me: It opens my eyes to the possibility of more, and most importantly to appreciate what we have.