I spent much of Sunday resting under a tree in the park near our house. It was a perfect January in Arizona, and I was recovering from a very long week. My kids were riding their bikes, playing “Star Wars” with the neighbors and just, well, being kids.
And though the house still needed to be put back together - remnants of Saturday’s family gathering for my daughter’s birthday rested in nearly every room - when my 6-year-old son and now 4-year-old daughter begged to go outside, I gave in.
It wasn’t that hard. My own body needed some outdoor time, some time away from the confines of home, some time when I couldn’t view the dishes that needed to go into the dishwasher and the boxes that needed to go in the trash.
I can’t remember the last time I just sat in the sun on the grass. Under that tree I remembered my own days growing up in the Valley - I climbed a lot of trees as a kid during Arizona’s “winters.” Now and then I think about living some place with more “four-season weather,” but then we have a day like Sunday.
I can brag to my sister in Minnesota about our time outdoors (which she can do in the summer, so it’s even). And I don’t have to worry about driving in the snow.
The biggest gift was the chance to listen to the kids laugh and play, even though most of my daughter’s comments were, “I’m Princess Leia. Help me. Someone save me.”
Hmmm… maybe Friday night’s viewing of “Star Wars” wasn’t such a good idea.
