When I was younger with kids at home, there were days when the heat of South Carolina, which normally just lay on you like a suffocating stillness, took a turn. When I sensed the change I’d grab them both and we’d walk and run and skip to the end of the street across from the bay. Though we couldn’t feel it six houses away, some force in that spot gathered up the breezes from the water and spun them by their tails, and we’d stand with our faces upturned and our arms stretched wide so that as much of our bodies as possible could catch that magic and let it run right through us in an unexpected gift of renewal.
I spotted these six sisters on a walk yesterday. They’re watching and pulling for us, and I’m pulling for them too.