Isaac and I head outside, our feet shod in flip-flops. He is looking down and trying to walk. The novelty of his shoes and foot-freedom is distracting. I don't blame him. This has been a long time coming.
"Mommy, it smells good!" He takes a deep breath, and so do I. We exaggerate a deep inhale and release with a big sigh, throwing our arms wide. There is nothing like filling your lungs with fresh air. "Do you want to ride your scooter and go for a walk?" I ask him (already knowing the answer...) "YEEEEESSSS!! I LOVE going for a walk, Mom!" Like a bullet shot, he's in the garage retrieving the red and silver scooter that used to belong to Ethan. It is Isaac's favorite thing to do outside. Ride....and ride some more.
We head off down the sidewalk. There are buds bursting on the dogwoods down our street. Wind is rippling the neighbors' grassy lawns. It's the only time of year when dirt smells delectable; moist, semi-sweet, and alive. Isaac is more than alive...he's flying. Literally, he's flying down the sidewalk and around the corner. I jog to catch up.
We see some storm clouds ahead and decide to turn around. "Why are we going backwards, Mommy?" I point to the sky and tell him about the rain. He looks at it me as if to say, "So what?"
Heading the opposite way means more wind. The air pushes at us, making us squint our eyes and take deep, short breaths. Isaac's creamy light brown hair is rippling like the grass. "Mommy, it's windy!" I hear a loud laugh as he speeds up and yells, "WHEEEEEEE!" I think, this must be what a bird would say if she could talk. If we could hear them zipping through the sky, there would be a constant roar of "WHEEE'S." Isaac, my little bird.
Small droplets fall as we arrive. Into the wind we went, and against the wind we pushed. And we'll keep pushing and flying. As far and as high as we can go.