The Thing That Will Last

The last day of school was a whirlwind, but I wanted the whirlwind to slow down. The year went too fast and I wanted the day to last another month. The children just wanted to go outside right when they walked in the door. I don't know why I thought that staying inside for just a bit would make things go slower. It wouldn't. The play yard is always their favorite place to be. 

They love that yard. Every bit of it. In every weather. At any time of day. It is theirs. They have placed every pile of sand-to-be-made into cake, they find the insects to feed to the wood frog tadpoles, they know where to find the best sticks, and where to loop the ropes so that the boat can't float away. They have houses to live in and battles to be won. They made sure to touch every bit of the yard and they moved in groups from one end to the other, touching everything, moving it around, making jumps from surfaces they had not tried yet, balancing precariously on others. They puddled up together like babies and kittens, they swore new allegiances between the superheroes, clones, and bad guys, and they touched every bit, every single bit, of the play yard and the stuff in it.

They know. They know more than we do. They know that the whirlwind is going and just how fast it is going. Here is the thing though that will last, they know how to run with the whirlwind and keep up. They have their adventure legs under them. Their hearts are full of what they know and their strides are long. They are filled with the news of the world because they know every inch of their own world. They hold and hold and then off they go.