Impermanence

My youngest son pulled me over to this leaf stain the other day. He thought it was so amazing and we stopped and examined it for a while and talked about why it was there. I had walked right by it a dozen or so times that day, taking photos of the kids playing, of the beautiful things framed by a deep blue autumn sky. I certainly wasn't thinking about looking down at the concrete driveway for beauty.

But he was. Of course, it helps that he's only 4 feet tall, but that's not the only reason. Children have a natural fascination with the world around them. They wonder and contemplate and meditate in ways that most adults have lost. We zip by this and that to get to the other and then complain once we are there that the time is going by too quickly. I'm very guilty of that. This year has flown by. Has time somehow sped up? Has the rotation of the earth increased just enough to take away a minute or two of each day?

No. But I've sped up. I walk quickly by nature. I walk more quickly by design. I do laundry instead of drawing with my kids. I take photos of the sky and forget to look at the ground. I forget that some moments are fleeting and I should take a moment to drink them in.

The leaf stain was gone the next day, but I have a photo of it, now. The wisdom and wonder of a six year old pulled me to it.

Thank you, J.