The day was crisp. Yellow and green leaves swayed against a clear blue backdrop. The chill in the air was pleasant as it washed over my face. It made the comfort of my fluffy ivory circle scarf and black patterned jacket, that much more appreciated, as I walked to the end of the block, hand in hand with my son. This was a good day.
While most people looked for updated kitchens and the right number of bathrooms, I had house hunted with a dream in my mind. A dream realised today. Yes, I had a great kitchen and beautiful windows that flooded the living room with light. What I didn’t say to my husband the day they made the offer, was that I really loved the walk to school. I had driven through the neighborhood the day before we toured the house in June. My heart had leapt with joy as I had counted the blocks from the front door to the elementary school; three. We moved into our new house exactly one week before the first day of kindergarten.
“I love you forever”
“I love you forever too,” I answered with a small smile.
“I love you as much as I love Dad. Do you know home much that is?”
I knew where this was going, but I encouraged it anyway, “No.”
“One thousand one hundred million thousand!”
“I’m impressed, that’s a lot of love.” His smile beamed up at me. Green gray eyes, just like my father’s, sparkling with intelligence and enthusiastic youth.
We crossed the last street hand in hand. “Mom, I can go by myself from here. You go home now, ok?”
Sighing, I resigned myself to let him grow up, “Alright, go on. Have a good day.”
“Thank you! Have a good day!”
I stood there on the corner watching his red Ironman backpack and blue-green stripped hoody. It was hilariously big on him, but when I told him I was takeing it back and exchange it for a smaller size, he had argued. He liked it big. It was comfortable and he thought it made him look like Daddy. He marched confidently up the sidewalk. His steps slowed with trepidation as he reached the pathway to the front of the building. Unable to watch anymore I took a deep breath, turned and started towards home uphill.
My husband and I had walked him to school on the first day and that was a dream too. This was what I really wanted. A quiet memory of a crisp clear fall day, hand in hand with the most important man in her life. I wrote this in my heart on that uphill walk home and I am typing this as I live another kind of dream, watching my 14 month old daughter, smile and dance, washed in sunshine from those big living room windows.
Not all dreams are large. Sometimes it’s the small dreams that matter the most.
If you’re new to this blog, welcome! If you checked me out from my link on the Nesting Place, I really appreciate your visit! Please comment, I would love the feedback.