On Affection and The Friends of Our Youth

Mollie (sugar bean) Beth

Wyatt graduates to the big boy swing.

Thomas and Andie

A walk up the road after walking sticks were picked.

Andie is scared of dogs so they started running.

Allie caught up.

Now, back down.

May the friends of our youth be
the companions of our old age.

The Dodson girls came over for a play-date on one of our first warm weather days of almost spring. Thomas had dressed himself carefully picking out the too-small Star Wars shirt and matching knock-off Crocs. Andie had dressed herself too paying close attention to her turquoise headband. Both had prepared to see each other. They had played outside for a long while and after I had put Wyatt down for a nap, we went on a little nature walk.

They picked their walking sticks, which were both found in plenty and still a little green from the ice storm. We walked the road behind our house. We saw carefully spun cocoons hanging from wiry limbs and we saw fox holes. The root-ball of a large fallen tree made for a cave. With the looming smell of wet, damp earth, Thomas tried to pull stuff down while underneath it and Andie got scared, so he stopped. Coming down the hill, Andie fell and scraped her hands. She cried for her mother sending the signal that the walk was over.

There was not a toy around nor a television in sight. It was unobstructed, intentional time spent with the person you like best.

Why is it we hold so much back the older we get? Shouldn't it be the opposite, that we pour out more with the ever-growing knowledge of the depths of love? You can learn a lot from a child.

They don't know how to hold back affection for the things they love most. It bubbles up quickly and spills out. Joy is thrown out like confetti when a child feels love for something or someone. Their faces wriggle with delight that cannot be hidden. What a challenge to love like this; to be unscathed by boundary.