Tasting the Wind

When it is summertime in the south rain can be one of two things, a blessing or a curse. A quick shower can mean cooler temperatures or higher humidity. This afternoon we were fortunate enough to receive just enough of a summer shower to pull down the humidity and cool the air. Driving home along our rural route I rolled down the windows to just right spot, putting a perfect path of air into Roland's face. Not too much where he closes his eyes, but just the right amount that blows his hair out of his face and lets him gaze out the window.

Tonight, to the classics of Pink Floyd and instrumental Santana, we enjoyed the drive through the rhythmic set of Tulip Grove hills and the summer evening air. The temperature was perched at that ideal place where it's just one degree cooler than your skin, almost tickling as it skims over you, wrapping you in a embrace. Roland is now big enough to extend his strong arm to the edge of the window, his outstretched fingers enchanted by the rushing air. With a smile spread over his face, blond hair blowing, I asked if he could feel the wind? He replied, "I can taste it!"and without a moments hesitation collected the wind in a fist and popped it into his mouth. "How does it taste?" I asked. "Like wind!" and he gobbled up some more, laughing and grinning.

There's nothing more magical than being humbled by a child. In an instant they remind you how wonderfully delicate we are, just like the wind, and how incredibly important it is to gobble life up in fist fulls so you can taste it.