We stood in the dark at the end of the driveway in our bare feet. In that sliver of light where the street lamp cuts through the trees, arms stretched wide, we let the gusts of wind bathe us as we watched the rain-soaked leaves dance in the air.
You’re an adult now. Between school and work and a girlfriend that now occupies your attention full time, there’s not much room left for a moment like this. Yet here we are, 5 in the morning, sharing the rush of remnant tropical storm winds together.
Although neither would like to admit it, we’re similar creatures you and I. Rather than be tucked inside where there is no sign of storm, we crave the rush of the wind blowing through our hair and the sounds of the trees swirling all around us. It’s the thrill, the excitement of the unknown, if only for a few moments. We laugh, make a few comments like “oh that was a good one..” or “that was the best one yet” before scampering back inside to warmth and safety and the comfortable security that the walls of a home provide.
But I’ll cherish those few precious moments in the dark. The ones where we were unencumbered by expectations, by the tension that exists between a parent and a child soldiering toward independence and continuously pushing the boundaries to get there. In those sacred moments at the end of the driveway, it was just me and my kid delighting in the rush of the wind in our hair.
Although he doesn’t know it, he gave me a gift. The gift of just being a mom with her son, arms wide open, scanning the trees around us for any sign of an impending gust. Those moments, like the wind gusts we worked so hard to capture, are gone as soon as they come. But I’m sure glad I was there, bare feet resting on a bed of soggy leaves and pine needles, to soak it all in.