It was a perfect autumn evening, and the Mountain was beckoning. Some recent construction around our apartment complex had created a small deposit of dirt and rocks in one spot, and from that location, adventure called. This particular evening, we came equipped with a few plastic trucks and spoons for excavating. As we approached the site, the kids quickly scrambled to the Mountain's summit.
It
was a perfect mountain: about a dozen feet high, mostly dirt with
some good-sized rocks and several broken pieces of concrete slabs
scattered throughout, ideal places to perch while climbing or
digging. It was absent of broken glass, rebar, and other
tetanus-laden hazards that might otherwise threaten the carefree
explorations of a 3- and 6-year-old.
Back
to the Future came out 30 years
ago, and I was around the age then that my kids are now. As I watched
them play, I smelled the dirt and remembered how much fun I had had
when left to simply play by myself outside. A dirt mound, a small
copse of trees, a cove of bushes, even a pile of rocks, all became
places of potential magic and adventure.
As
a child, some minute, perceptive part of my young mind knew that
childhood was a one-way journey. And so –much to the chagrin of my
mother-- I took advantage of playing in and exploring every dirt
mound, every wilderness-like patch of woodland, any place that looked
as though it held the remotest possibility of fun or adventure. And it made my childhood wonderful.
Now, the
Engaging And Involved Parent part of me wanted to climb the Mountain
and join my kids, to sit in the dirt, asking to be included in their
play, in their world... but I didn't. I have already had that time of
my life, and I enjoyed every bit of it that I could. Now it was time
for my children to experience the joy and magic of being able to play
free from parental intrusion. I needed to let them create those
experiences on their own.
So
I sat for an hour in the cool and slowly-fading autumn light and watched my kids from 10 feet and 30 years away, until it
seemed as though my past, our present, and their future came
together, and my heart filled with so much remembrance, peace, and
joy that it ached.
It
was absolutely wonderful.
This post
is dedicated to my dad, who taught me from a young age to enjoy and
experience life in every way I can.
