Our Lives on the Hill

 Two children playing in the street with wind-kissed cheeks from the cooling English weather. I remember it so clearly. I can almost smell the salt from the nearby beach and feel the chill whip around my collar. It was a lazy Saturday afternoon when my parents called my brother and I in from nature's playground. I'm quite sure we grumbled and complained as we stomped up the stairs to bundle up for the walk we didn't want to take. And sitting on my bed was a box. A large box. Inside was the most fantastic pair of roller skates I had ever seen. I heard a shriek from my brother's room and realized that he had been greeted by the same gift. To this day I can't remember being more excited about a present. It wasn't my birthday. We weren't celebrating any special occasion--it was just a rare, special treat. When I say that it was rare, I by no means infer that I was deprived. My parents just knew how to live modestly and intentionally and when they gave to us it meant something. I'm not sure we've imparted that to our children and for that I grieve. I wish plenty were a stranger to them.
 Donning our new skates, we took to the beach front as a family and wore ourselves out. We had so much fun. It's obvious that my fun came from the spontaneous gifting of something I had so desired. My parents' joy, however, was rooted in simply watching us receive. They were so content and happy to see us having fun. That's parenting isn't it? Finding contentment in watching your children fully live.
 And now I sit back watching my children live and loving the wonder in their eyes from the things that give them joy. There is a special contentment in seeing Will's orphan mentality temporarily disappear and him just being a normal, happy two-year-old boy.
 I hope my children look back at the things we did as a family and it means something to them. I hope they have a roller skate story where it wasn't about the contents of the box but about knowing that their parents experienced joy in watching them experience joy.