The Ducks and An Overcast Stroll in July

Of all the places. Of all the things. Of all the adventures, my favorite is right here with you feeding the ducks.

"Mama, there is a baby. He loves his mommy like I love you," you say smiling with your squinty eyes. "He's so cute."

How do you come up with this stuff? Your uncle Josh used to love to feed the ducks on the lake. Sometimes you remind me of him.

Of all the stuff, the cars and houses and pretty things, the thing that matters most to me is time with you. There is never quite enough.

I love this walk with you on an overcast day with a constant threat of a downpour. I love the way you throw your arms out like you're flying. It makes me smile with squinty eyes.

"A great blue herron!" you scream. "Hi, I'm Jack, nice to meet you."

I love how happy this makes you.

Many years ago your Great Grandpa dragged me outside and he made me walk. He made me walk slowly as he pointed high in the trees at birds. He made me really see the world with open eyes. He made me appreciate the natural beauty surrounding us: the way the river flowed through the woods, the way the street curved and the people who built it, the way the clouds looked just before the sun broke.

This is a gift passed down by him to me and now to you. Don't take it for granted, my dear son.

Don't take it for granted.