Forty-four years.
A lot can happen in forty-four years.
A lot HAS happened in forty-four years.
Time and space makes things change size as well, apparently.
But first, we see something. It’s a little kid.
——
Four-feet-something in height. Pudgy. Momma says he wears “husky” sized jeans but he knows that’s a momma’s way of saying, “fat”.
Husky kid pedals his bicycle up that frustratingly steep rural road in Wisconsin.
He won’t be husky very much longer. He’s in the middle of that magical year in the woods. The year where summer woody acreage mornings start at sunrise and don’t close until the lightning bugs surround him.
The year where the wet, heavy snow makes for beautiful but malformed snowmen and giant Easter-Islandy heads on that endless hillside sloping into the woods of adventure.
The year where Spring transforms melting snow and woods into creeks and mini rivers of exploration.
The year of stars in the sky, bright like suns.
—–
Time has had a way of stretching things.
Longer trips, bigger house, larger buildings, grander adventures, hundreds of people cramming us into giant tubes to take us to dizzying destinations.
It also has had a way of shrinking things.
In the rental car, I accidentally passed right by the used-to-be giant house and the endless adventure hill disappearing into the woods.
Had to turn around and retrace the path a second time, this time much slower.
Was amazed at how short the distance was between the old schoolhouse and the house mailbox.
Why would it take all day to walk that 30-second car drive?
Let’s ask that kid.
Yah, that kid over there. The one we can barely see.
The pudgy kid pushing his bike up the hill.
O wait, he’s stopped. Probably to catch his breath.
No, he’s stopped to poke a bug with a stick.
And now he’s poking another stick with that stick. Swatting a bee from around his head.
Pesky bees. Pebbles will keep them away. Ah. No, they’re SO hard to hit. I remember that. Trees are easier to peg than bees. Tree Peg, haha. Peg. Peg. Peg. Penk. Toss the pebble, make a penk sound. Did you know different trees make different sounds when they’re hit with pebbles? Penk, penk, pink, pock. And different sounds when they’re hit with sticks, too. Stick, stick, stick. Snick, Snick, snick. Stick, snick, stick, snick. Why aren’t these called SNICKS? That’s the sound they make when they hit things. Bees make a BEEEEEEE sound. Oooo hey, THIS one is a BIG snick. It’s really a WHACKO. Whacko, whacko, whacko. It smells different from a snick. I don’t know what exactly. Not like a bendy. Bendys smell like green. Whackos smell like… ow! Whackos smell like pain. Throw that whacko in the street. They do roll nice though. But now it’s stopped. Pebbles will help it roll. Throw pebbles. Pink, penk, pock. Ah. Snicks and pebbles make different sounds when they hit the asphalt on the road, too. That asphalt smells like hot. Pebbles roll. Some pebbles roll farther than others when they are thrown downhill. Snicks don’t much. They just sit there. O wait, where’s that bee? A snick will chase that bee away. But now it’s not a snick any more; it’s a WHOOSHA. Whoosha, whoosha, whoosha…
—–
Gotta go, kid. Time for me to head back. People are waiting for me. Good to see you again and in great spirits.
No, don’t get up, it’s ok.
Say hi to your momma for me.
