Driving down the road, a hand stuck out the window feeling the wind rush past. A dusting of hair across the fingers picking up and whipping then across in seemingly random patterns. The wind rushing up an arm, through the shirt, and across the shoulders to ever so slightly tickle. Rotating the hand so the palm catches the wind and slings the hand back, then turning again so the blade can sluice through it’s invisible river to get back to the front. Eyes watering from the wind in them, but squinting trying to catch every possible glance at the movement of the hand, desperately trying to figure out the next movement to perform. All at once the hand is a rocket ship, a pirate’s vessel, or a bird. Hair getting blown around, messed up so that tendrils are sticking in all directions, and not a care in the world about it. I glance over and Nathan is smiling, lips slightly moving as he talks to himself dreaming up which ever story goes along with what his hand is acting as. Looking in my side mirror I see which ever girl has managed to sit behind me, after the latest round of seating arrangement wrestling, doing the same with her hand. The girl in the middle is bopping her feet to the tune of some inaudible song, tilting her head from side to side, dreaming up what to play when she gets home.
How innocent these children are. Not a care in the world and as happy as can be. Questions and comments brimming yet content enough to keep quiet at the moment. Makes one sad to have grown up already and to have lost their innocence, lost the naivety, lost the ability to feign ignorance on subjects and matters that are downright awful. I know I can never shield them from everything, but I want to hold on and try as hard as I can to protect them, or at least prepare them for whatever may happen in the future and console the from what injustices they perceive they have experienced.
The children are already more experianced than when this happened as it took place several weeks ago. Over the last couple days I have fallen back to this moment when the wind was whipping through the car, not a word was being said (for once) and everyone content, sated, just enjoying the moment. As my little brother would say, taking the long way home. The sun coming out from behind some clouds, roads slightly damp from a far too infrequent rain, and freedom.
