Yesterday, kiddo and I went for a walk around the forested paths that are nearby the middle and elementary schools. We picked raspberries, ate them as we went. I had brought a plastic cup for her to put her berries in, because I know she likes to fill the cup, and then in the evening, enjoy them by herself.
The sun was warm on us and I thought back to May and June, when I wondered if it would ever get above 60 degrees, and if the earth would ever warm up enough to plant/grow anything. Took a break from picking and walked some more and stopped at a blueberry patch. I stood and watched her- what a picture it would have made! She, bent, picking the berries off the low to the ground plants, standing straight occasionally. She wore a blue shirt and olive capris. I wished for a camera, but only had my cell phone. It doesn’t download very well…
She harvested the berries unaware of her own sweetness and simplicity and my heart ached a bit for a few moments, as I watched a young adult, busy, focused on her prize.
It could have been anywhere; it could have been anyone.