one of the best parts about spending the month in western north carolina is getting to spend time with my brother, who lives in asheville. and one of the best things about his status here as a local is that he takes us on adventures that cannot be found on trail maps and in guidebooks. who knew that there are hidden trail heads on exit ramps and places on earth where poison ivy and private property give way to scenes like this?

the monkey and bird were experiencing  their first day of clubs, a day camp at montreat, while the adults were embarking upon waterfall hike. but i could not help but be distracted by daydreams of a future time, when my little boys will be big boys, old enough and eager to climb the rocks and dunk their heads under the rushing water. sometimes there is so much promise in the future that it is difficult to stay in the present.

in our current stage of toddlerhood, afternoon naps, and the boys’ almost constant need for assistance, it is so easy to get swept away by far off notions that someday, adult conversation and uninterrupted sleep will re-enter our lives. and then i catch myself forgetting that this time of sloppy nose-kisses, uninhibited delight, the honest articulation of fears, sweet sweaty ringlets, triumph over small accomplishments, and the natural wisdom of innocence is fleeting and precious.  i know i will long for this stage when it is gone.

when we were on our way to the mountains on friday, i received an email from the rental company pressuring us to decide upon our rental plans for next year. never mind that we had not even begun our mountain adventure for the current year. never mind that we were, at the time, simply trying to make a bag of pipe cleaners last for the remainder of our trek down I-40.

the world will lure us prematurely into the future if we haven’t already wandered there ourselves. for me, being fully present in the moment is something i talk about and value, though i find it almost impossible to do! apparently, as i learned on our hike, wearing a t-shirt emblazoned with the words, “BE PRESENT” does not automatically calm the multi-tasking mind.

funny how this does, though:

i take solace in the fact that there are moments scattered here and there that seem to stand outside of time. thank goodness for a spontaneous plunge into frigid water; the surrender of the bird, who stops resisting his nap long enough to rest his head on my chest; and the first cup of coffee enjoyed on a tree-top porch.

speaking of coffee, let us not underestimate its importance when it comes to living in the present and parenting small children.

i think about my childhood a lot these days, as i am now in charge of someone else’s (two someones, actually). and what i remember most about being so new in the world are all of the beautiful, fun, interesting, and delicious things my parents showed my brother and me. i will never forget the first time they took us to fall creek falls state park, and we got see and walk behind this waterfall:

or the time our family spent a few nights in new orleans, and my parents took my brother and me to cafe du monde for beignets. they were almost giddy when i took my first yummy bite. now i know the feeling.

but perhaps the most recurring such events in my childhood were our trips to the gulf coast, the same coast i’m looking at now as i type and as the monkey and bird sleep. my parents started by showing us the ocean. then they taught my brother and me to ride its waves, mine if for shells, and make castles in its surf. and when we got a little older, they taught us to settle down beside it with a good book.

but what i remember most about my introduction to the world’s wonders is that it felt, at the time, as if my parents had invented all of these things just for my brother and me. whether we were wading in a creek in middle tennessee, riding the tube in london, or eating my dad’s saturday morning pancakes, it felt as if my parents were letting their children in on a set of sweet secrets conjured up merely for our benefit.

my parents didn’t invent the world’s wonders for us, of course, nor are my husband and i inventing them for our boys. but there is something so accurate about my childhood idea of my parents as inventors. the world is full of so much potential for happiness, sadness, and every emotion in between. and though much of life is spent coping and grieving those things that are beyond our control, we can continue to invent lives for ourselves that embrace what is beautiful, fun, interesting, and delicious.

being a parent is a constant reminder of this redeeming truth. it takes us back to the basic goodness of life, and while we are opening our kids to this goodness, we cannot help but open up to it again ourselves.

i can tell that the monkey and bird are already starting to become inventors. not inventors of the ocean and beignets, of course, but little people who are blazing new trails to the earth’s gifts, trails to which i hope they return, again and again.

p.s. i refrained (pardon the pun) from covering the wonders of music in this post, for reasons i have stated earlier.