Forgive me; this is going to get a little sentimental. Today we attended my daughter’s 5th grade graduation celebration. She’s closing the chapter on her elementary years and moving onto middle school. With most of life’s milestones, I am able to roll over them without much friction, but this one is hitting a little harder than the “first tooth” and the “no training wheels bike ride”. She’s growing up and she is doing a fine job. She is a wonderfully delightful young lady. As a mother I am constantly second guessing my parenting but I have no choice but to trudge onward and continue doing the best I can. She’s taken huge steps towards the independent direction but there are obvious moments when I am reminded that she is still a kid. (Her recent purchase of $27 worth of candy at the convenience store is a prime example.) Her new-found maturity is deceptively prevalent. And I constantly find myself having to step back to remember that, despite her appearance, she is only 10 (going on 25).
After a delightful ceremony at Wilson Elementary School (where she has spent all of her K-5 years) Anna and I loaded up in the minivan, freshly outfitted with new brakes and a water pump, and hit the road. It has been dark, gloomy and rainy for days and I could see a patch of blue sky way off on the horizon to the north. I figured that potential sunlight was as good of a target as any and we set off.
Now, I’m sure the roads north of town make sense to someone, and perhaps if I were to actually look at a map I could figure it out, but that’s simply not my style. I prefer aimless meandering over destination travel any day. Sometimes however, this gets you into places you don’t really want to be. After a mistaken loop south, I was able to find a road that pointed north that was guarded by a sign that said “gravel road next 20 miles.” Twenty Miles was enough miles for me and signified that road lead to more than a dead end. It was quickly revealed that we were chasing a sunset and Bear Butte.
It’s getting so green and beautiful out there, it was hard not to find a good shot. We drove and stopped and shot and drove a little further and stopped and shot and drove and so on. My favorite moment of the drive was when I spotted a mystery bird on a fence. He was shy and would always fly away each time I approached and land on the fence down the road. I wanted desperately to get a shot of him in flight because the setting sun behind him was lighting up his wings in the most delightful fashion I couldn’t shoot, drive and chase the bird at the same time so I told Anna to grab the wheel and steer. She was thrilled to take up the task and we laughed each time the bird would land and fly again. Eventually the bird wised up, flew in another direction and we drove on.
We ended up on HYW 34 and circled around Bear Butte right as the sun was sinking below the horizon. I had one last whim to visit the lake at the base of the butte. We pulled into the lake just in time for me to run out and catch some shots of the beautiful tranquility of the still lake and the painted sky. A single fishing boat quietly floated around the lake as the swallows chased their evening snacks across the top of the perfectly glass-like surface of the water.
A blue heron flew across the lake and landed in the reeds on the south side. Anna stayed in the car while I trudged around in the sticky clay mud and as I packed my gear up to return to her, I noticed she had ventured out to join me. I asked her if she had seen the heron and she was sad that she had missed it. I was explaining to her how it had flown just above the water line across the lake when we looked just in time to watch it fly back again one last time this time with a fish in his mouth. It was a beautiful sight to witness and the perfect way to say goodbye to the light of the day as it followed the sun behind the horizon
We swung through Sturgis for one last snack before we drove back home. As the darkness of night claimed the sky I got to thinking about how hard it is to appropriately express the joy I feel when I take these mini trips with Anna. They are simply my favorite thing to do. As I told her last night, I know they seem weird and annoying to her right now, but I hope that, at some point in her future, she looks back at these memories fondly.
When I think back to my childhood, the moments spent with my mom and my grandpa out in nature are the ones I credit for shaping me and making me who I am today. I learned everything from what they shared with me. I grew up following them wherever they wanted to take me and absorbed their wisdom like a sponge. I am thrilled that it is my turn to give that gift to my child. For me, there is nothing on earth that makes me happier than these times with Anna. I know the clock is ticking and my ability to haul her around is fleeting. Soon, her world will be in her own hands and her own social life will matter much more. But right now, I’ve got her and I am going to selfishly indulge in these moments… not only because I know they are fleeting, but also because I think, in the end, they will matter to her someday too.
