The sun had just dipped behind the treetops on the horizon, giving way to twilight.
As the night creatures emerged, something else did too. Innocence crept in, and I almost missed it.
Weary from our day of being cooped up in the car, the gut-twisting meals on the go, and ridiculous eye-rolling and laughter generated by silly music blasting through the car's speakers; when the car finally stopped, all four doors burst open, and our energy could finally be released.
Greeted by the cool evening air of this northern valley, the first relaxed breath exhaled "home". Not the "home" we lived in now, but the "home" of memories and dreams.
Hugs and kisses; excited expressions of familial love dispersed. We sat to catch up, take in assessments of well-being that just can't be done over the phone.
Attention spans being what they are, it didn't take long for the kids to find something to do.
Because of the boy's familiarity with the settings (and his lack of fear which allows him to enjoy every moment), he grabbed the girl, and they ran off into the deepening shade of the yard.
Socks and shoes off, I could tell she was taking it all in. She'd never been here before, so she wasn't quite ready to leave his side to explore on her own.
Once he showed her around, pointing out everything they saw, I felt her relax from across the yard.
Without her even knowing, it happened... she let go; triggered by the soft flash of the firefly in front of her face.
Their careful exploration transformed into a carefree chase, the quintessential childhood memory played out before my eyes.
The noises that punctuated the young night are forever etched into my memory; the wonder of it all thickened the air around us.
Squeals of discovery and surprise, faint whispers of up-close and detailed instruction, and muffled giggles turned into unashamed belly laughter.
If only this moment could last forever; this moment where two kids, almost midway through their teen years, could forget about their everyday lives.
For those few moments, I caught a glimpse of innocence in these two kids, who hadn't experienced much innocence in their own lives for any prolonged amount of time.
For those few moments, the rest of the world didn't matter to them.
Time stopped... watching and judging eyes stopped... and so did their cares and worries about them.
It caught my breath to see this side of them; my role in their lives being very much of a confidant and counselor; very aware of the emerging adult-like issues they face every day that try to steal or conceal their childhood.
Whether they realized it or not, this moment was a treasured gift to me.
These moments don't happen very often, but when they do, they're a reminder of the potential for innocence to return at any moment.
