A Walk in the Wind
A walk in the neighborhood
The other day I went on a walk with my family. My wife, myself, and our 11-month-old son took to the streets of our quiet neighborhood. The adults traversed the streets as our son sat in the stroller. The sun was on the other side of the sky now. And dinner was marinating. We turned right out of our cul-de-sac and searched for some unforeseen end to our walk. We did not have a set time or destination. It was for the sake of the walk, it was for the time under the sun, and for being out-of-doors.
We plodded our way along making conversation and enjoying being together. Our son sat in solemn observation, a world he hardly knows passed by him. He sees birds, houses, and people. He hears us talking, cars, and dogs barking. He soaks it up like a sponge. He talks to himself, or maybe to us. But either way, he jabbers and gestures occasionally, as if to say, "Look at that!" or "What is that?" A boy in a yard shouts hello and waves enthusiastically. The world is new to our son and, in a way because of that, new to us.
I push the stroller, doing intermittent wheelies to spice things up for him, and feel the wind blow. Today there have been strong gusts, nearly 40 miles an hour. As we turn down another street we find ourselves walking headlong into the wind. My son's stroller acts like a cup to catch all the wind the world is pouring out. There is resistance, but I don't mind. And my son doesn't seem to mind either. I think he enjoys it. This is his first fall. The colors and sensations he is experiencing for the first time.
There are thousands of birds in the air, tiny black dots peppering the sky. Noiseless in this wind, but making quite the show. I try to point them out to my son, but he is more interested in his toes. The birds, I've seen them before in the southern part of my state, I guess they are migrating for the winter. Huge flocks of tiny birds that come for a few days and then move on. I am always surprised at how birds handle the wind. How do they manage so? Divine design, God is good.
Eventually, we find a spot that feels right to turn around and head back home. The journey takes us toward the setting sun. The heat of the autumn sun feels good on our faces and the wind whispers the last bits of warmth of the summer. We walked about a mile and a half. Dinner is still to be made and we have a baby to get ready for bed. The afternoon wanes as our hunger waxes. Tacos are on the menu.