The shallow, shimmering creek kept a steady beat as is babbled along it’s way – telling those whom would listen a story of where it’s been and where it was going. Surrounding us, on both sides of the creek, was an old blackened burn, fully alive with new growth aspen shoots and wildflowers. All around us baby snake-grass reached high for the sun while clinging closely to the water-logged banks. All of this, the nature, the life, and the Montana beauty that I treasure and adore, surrounded us. With everything else around me that I could have been breathing in, I could not stop starring at her feet. Long, skinny and narrow – just like mine – and a little pink from the coolness of the high mountain stream. They were almost always pointed away from me. When I would talk to her or call her name her upper body would turn toward me and she gave me a little smile, but her feet held their ground. I kept thinking that they are starting to align themselves, naturally, in the direction of her future – upstream.
Walking upstream at times would be difficult. Walking on the slippery, uneven rocks would cause her to wobble at times. At times, the current would be fierce and gnarly and walking against the current may cause her to fall. But walking upstream, into her future, the slips and falls would be met and overshadowed with all the beauty and love that lives upstream.
Near me, but away from me at the same time. I kept imagining those little feet and all the places they will carry her. Her future is so wide open, as wide open as the endless wilderness her feet pointed to and the thought of her feet moving her where ever her heart asked them to go was almost overwhelming for me. In her little feet, I saw all her possibility. I saw her hopes and dreams, all her happiness and failures, her heart breaks and elations. I couldn’t help but daydream about those little feet, that now sit carelessly dangled in mountain water and how someday they will walk her down her wedding isle. They will walk her through graduation, to cheerleading tryouts and to her first job. They will take her on her own adventures – over mountains, through trails and into airports. They will sway her in comfort while she is in labor and sway her baby the same comforting way. Those little feet have only begun their journey. Only time will show where they will take her. And for this mama, that is exciting – terrifying – but so, so exciting.
My baby and those ten little toes will be walking through those big, red double doors, down that impossibly long, locker-lined hallway and into her little, colorful kindergarten classroom in a few days. Her feet will always be near me, but it is the beginning of her own feet walking her to her future. She will still hold my hand, but it is her own feet making the big move in this new, and unknown direction.
I will encourage her to follow her heart and her feet. Wherever she may be and whatever she may need, I will encourage that growth, but I will always remind her to allow her feet to walk the familiar path back to me and into my arms. For no matter where her feet take her I will always be back at the beginning waiting for her return.
It was nothing more than a little girl, my little nature girl, soaking up the last few moments of summer bliss, but to this sappy, emotional mama – whom at times is on the brink of an utter mental collapse – it was a special time, probably the first time since she was an infant, that I really noticed her feet.
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We loaded up the dogs and (yes, I caved and Mason was invited. He’s annoying in the car, but gives me a sense of peace in bear country) our water bottles, bunny snacks, sandwiches, bear spray, Mama’s 9 mm and milk jugs with the tops cut off. We had one thing on our mind; a little round, blue-purple berry that when it bursts on your tongue it’s sweet juice reminds you that life in Montana, especially in the summer, is special and we are so lucky to live here.
We drove the dirt roads and climbed roadside hillsides, but the huckleberry eluded us. The little hike alongside the mountain stream and the time spent watching my sweet babies swim and play in the cool water was just as sweet and satisfying as that little berry we look forward to each summer.
He followed her as she kicked off her shoes, rolled up her jeans and explored the creekside. She encouraged him and offered him her hand when his outstretched leg was just short enough not to reach the next rock. She helped him up when he started to slip off the edge of the trail and told him, “Good try, buddy.” She taught him how to make a bracelet out of snake-grass. She picked for him a chewing-weed and bit off the end for him. She taught him about fossils as she pointed out the seashells preserved in the surface of a rock. And it was her that encouraged him that ‘getting naked’ was really the only way to enjoy swimming in a Montana mountain stream. And with that they both stripped and ran wild, anatural! Oh, I just love her! Whenever I doubt everything we have taught her, in that, maybe it isn’t enough for this new journey, she teaches her little brother how to truly enjoy a day, immersed in the peaceful solitude, with nothing more than a little snake-grass and a calm swimming hole. She is calm, encouraging and patient. She is hard-headed, eager and does everything with flair, sparkle and attitude. She is tough, but equally shy, sensitive and tender. She is so, so bright and sometimes her questions about life amaze me.
Life is good. And she knows how to enjoy it. She will be okay and so will I. Go little feet! Go forth and live. ❤
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