Ever since our sons were small, my friend Celeste and I have been hauling them up Waterton Canyon. Since it has recently reopened and the weather has been so warm, we decided to take them up there again yesterday. It’s amazing the difference from the days when we used to have to push them in double jogger strollers hauling sippy cups, diapers, and changes of clothes. Our boys are roughly 1 month apart in age; Joe is a bit older than Celeste’s Sean and Ryan is a bit older than my Luke. Yesterday Celeste and I joked as we walked about how much more difficult the hike used to be when we each had two boys in a stroller, poking and badgering each other. We would simply pray that we’d be able to get through four miles before any meltdowns occurred and then we would dream that they would fall asleep in the car on the way home.
Yesterday was an entirely different story. For the first time, there was relatively little complaining, and the boys walked the entire way. We walked up the first two miles, saw some mountain sheep along the way, and then stopped at our usual spot to have lunch and throw rocks into the river. Then we walked down without incident. The whole event was easy and pleasant…and shocking.
Time has flown. I look back at the photos of our boys together at Halloween parties and on these hikes and realize we’re watching them grow up. It’s sad and exciting at the same time. I hope Celeste and I are able to continue to drag our boys up Waterton on this hike as they get older, even if they’re whining and trying to text their friends (good luck with that in the canyon). Someday I want Celeste and I to look back on the photos of our boys standing in the river together. We will miss these times, but we will be glad we started a tradition we could trace together and share forever.
The older I become the more I am convinced that the only reality is the present moment. (Somewhat zen-ish but true.)