The boys just ran outside to look for lizards on the porch, their new favorite morning activity. A pair of cardinals lollygag on my mom's bird-feeders. Slowly, from around the corner, come the sandhill cranes and white ibis. Any old morning.
The boys. This is new to me, referring to them this way. But I look at them out of the corner of my eye, or from the poolside chair, or straight on at sea's lip, and I see them beginning to understand more about this world. Where do I find the words to describe what it means to me to watch them giggle and jump when they're lucky enough to touch a lizard, reel in a fish, frolic in the ocean, never tire of searching the beach for treasure. All of the things and more that made my very own childhood feel big and magical and limitless. Brothers, friends.
Yesterday on the way home from the pool I pulled the golf cart over; the world around us that we've been inhabiting these past two weeks came to a stand still. We drive in the golf cart under this grand tree draped in moss, and as we pass by the smell of sweet jasmine lingers and the verdant elephant ear's bigger than my children flap in the warm breeze. I will miss this.
(3rd to last photo credit - Theo N.)
