When did she get to be such a kid? I mean, not a toddler or a little kid but just a full-blown kid. Last night at the park I watched her run ahead of me and her legs were so long and lanky she looked like a miniature track star. She can run two miles now, and so I can get a brisk walk in while she shoots ahead and then pauses for me to catch up. Her hair flies behind her, her chin is tucked in and she cuts a straight line down the sidewalk with the occasional skip step over a heaved section or downed limb. And then this morning she plowed ahead of me again at the garden until she found something to read or see or climb, and then I passed her by and she had to catch up and I could hear her voice, out of breath with the effort of trying to run and explain what she had discovered at the same time. This morning it was a dead bird, her new name for the tiled ladies in the fountains (the tushes), “oh my, the irises are ALL gone…oh wait! No, there are still two left!”, the change in the paths at the triangular fountain, the train up and running, the fact that she’s the designated sign reader for her class, how they finally mowed the lawn with all the crocuses…endless chatter weaving in and out of my weekly Wednesday meditations. Four is my favorite age, and it grows on me with each passing month. And she grows, and grows and grows…
