This crisp Spring morning, we rode our bikes to school as usual. Looking down as we rode, we discovered a kind of magic carpet--our sidewalk was covered in white Japanese flowering crabapple blossoms. The gentle breezes from the lake blow these flowering petals off the trees that line our path. Up to this point, I had experienced Spring in postcard form only. Living most of my life in Florida and Texas, I've known Spring as that glorious two-week window when you can spend all day outside without sweating yourself into a dehydrated, red-flushed state. Now that we have endured our first 'real' winter, we get to enjoy the beauty, bounty, and yes, reward, of Spring.
I learn new things about where I live everyday. I never knew that Spring brings not only the visual delight in everything colorful and lush--from tall tulips to meadow buttercups--but also the sound and smells that ring-in this season's arrival. Buzzing honey bees pollinate right outside my office windows. Sweet fragrances waft inside our kitchen with every breeze. Basketballs pound on asphalt in the playground. Wake-up calls come early each morning outside our bedroom from birds returning to the North Shore. And the choruses of play erupt with every recess bell.
And baseball. I know that I am truly a Chicagoan when I herald in the season' s arrival with the first pitch!
This is also new territory for my boys. After school one day, L. lamented, "I want to be a Cubs fan. Mom, oh Mom, I wish I were a Cubs fan." He went on and on, sounding as though he were being denied some essential pearl in life. The baseball talk was obviously in full swing among the 4-6-year-old crowd, yet some basics of team worship were clearly eluding him: the fan's choice, for one.
"It's okay," I reassured him. "You can be a Cubs fan."
"How, Mom?"
"You just say that you are--and then you are."
"What?"
"You just say, 'I'm a Cubs fan!' And then you become one."
What ensued next was one of the longest talks I've ever had in my life about any single sport! And at long last, his angst faded.
Yes, Spring in all its green glory and over-sized mitts is here.
1 comment:
I still have Savannah's undersized pink baseball glove from her first T-Ball experience. She would spend most of her practice time climbing the backstop fence with the coach's son who happened to be her best friend in kindergarten.
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