Ah, the sun felt good this weekend. We went for a hike with little Grayson. He bobbed quietly on my chest, in and out of sleep. I shielded his face whenever the trail turned directly into the sun. As we walked, we brushed through the dry leaves. I imagined Grayson listening to the rhythmic swishing; lulled by the rustling heartbeat. I don't know what he sensed, but I sensed he liked it.
Ever wonder what you would do if you lost the ability to do the things you love to do? I think about this often. Call it self-preservation, call it paranoia. I call it planning ahead and keeping my options open...having a plan B.
Well, as we were walking today, and I was thinking about Grayson and his developing senses, I imagined what I would do in nature without my full use of my own senses. Specifically I thought about eyesight, or rather the lack of sight, and how my great appreciation for the beauty of our natural world would be significantly altered. How would I deal? Grayson helped me understand that I would simply trust in someone else to lead me along a path of leaves. I would bask in the sunlight and listen to the foot scrapes. I would thank the trees for their gifts.
