I am indebted to my son Joshua Nelson Platt who inspired this
conversation.
Joshua my son and I stroll together slowly through the rolling green
meadow talking as we casually flip a frisbee back and forth between us.
Joshua points at cows. "That's 'Chocolate'. She's 'Pancake'. I'll call
her 'Chocolate Milk'. That one is 'Patch'. And that's 'Alexandra'.".
Alexandra is my daughter, Joshua's sister, so I ask him "Why do you
name the cow Alexandra, Josh?". He beams at me. "Because she's just
like Alexandra, Dad. They both always say 'no-ooooo' ...".
I love his sense of humor. Our laughter echoes off the rock formations
and vaporizes my concern that I still haven't reconciled my checkbook
with last month's bank statement.
We walk to the edge of the meadow and down to the river. This is the
first time I have shown him the river. He is literally beside himself
with excitement. He sits down on a smooth sunny rock next to a pool
with tadpoles. He can not take his shoes and socks off fast enough. He
carefully lays them on a dry spot then gingerly steps through the
eddies, his arms whirling around like mad helicopter blades trying to
avoid ending up in the icy water.
I caution him "Joshua I have no dry clothes for you. If you get wet
you will be soggy and cold all the way home.". Of course the warning
falls on deaf
ears.
He is too engrossed in a piece of moss, a newt, ripples caused by
either a fish or a frog, and I realize my warning is not for him: it is
for me. Eventually his toes start to turn blue and he comes over to me
to put his shoes and socks back on. I kneel down in front of him,
remove my sweatshirt jacket and dry his feet with it. "Dad" he says
"don't do that. Your jacket will get wet.". "Yes it will Josh" I tell
him "but then your feet will be warm and dry and soon after that my
jacket will be dry again. This is what Dads are for.". He looks up at
me with nothing less than total adoration.
The moment is so rich that I lose all concern for the pile of paper and
new incoming tax information back on my desk which I have not attended
to in about a week.
We gather firewood from beneath the oak trees which adorn the hillside
like charcoal etchings. This is primal, basic survival. Want warm? Got
wood? Loaded with the bounty we amble back toward the cottage. Joshua
spots a couple of jackrabbits which he oohs and aahs about. I notice a
coyote cresting the hill although it does not seem to notice the
jackrabbits and I point it out to Joshua. A couple of frolicking
chipmunks add to his wide eyed enjoyment. He takes my hand in his as he
walks, balancing his oak bundle on his shoulder. "I love this place
Dad. We did nothing today but I had the best time.".
It is a priceless comment, enough to totally distract me from a looming
mountain of legal work.