Isaac is standing on the field, perma-grin all over his face.  He is in his favorite “muscle shirt,” hand me down baseball uniform pants, and his big (for him) little red glove.

The big wild boys are happily running free all over the playground. 

The sky is clear.  The wind is crisp.  And the sun is warm.

Marshall is asleep in grandma’s arms after Michael saved him from the clutches of his evil, scream evoking carseat. 

The three of us tall-ish people enjoy watching the kids.  And I savor this, as all, moments like these. 

Somehow the conversation wanders to bears (my longtime-since-early-childhood phobia). 

I dismiss mom and Michael’s jabs at my deep seated bear issues.  “No, bears are nothing.  I am only afraid of what I can’t shoot.”

They both laugh.
I may have too.

But I soooo wasn’t kidding…