The same weekend Jakey became dentally poorer yet richer in the eyes of the first grade, we were playing down in our favorite creek in San Luis. Unlike previous trips, I hadn’t packed their bathing suits and so the outing involved NOT falling into the creek in their normal clothes and only pair of shoes.
They had a great time leaping from rock to rock, throwing pebbles into the water, and retelling the story of when Nate was dive-bombed by birds. The weather was perfect, the sunlight was dappled, the creek was calming. The funniest thing was that Jake made his way out into the middle of the stream, found a big, flat rock, and then in total yogi-style, sat cross-legged, both thumbs to middle fingers, shut his eyes and practiced his meditation. Of course Nate copied him exactly.
There’s plenty of history to why and how Jacob knows how to meditate (and actually likes it). Maybe one of these days I’ll go into it. In any case… both boys ran down to the far end of the creek where the big stones act as an exciting and precarious pedestrian crossing. Jake assumed his meditative pose, as did Nate. After a few minutes of contemplative rest and likely a count of deep breaths matching their age, they came running back to me in their usual “thick as thieves” manner.
Jake whispers conspiratorily to me, “Mom, Mom. We were down there doing our breathing on the rocks and I could hear some grown-ups watching us. And they whispered, ‘I wish my kids were like that.'”
… so do I… so do I.
