Life's simple pleasures

The sun sets earlier each day. The chartreuse that paints the sky captures my eyes, before I set my bike to the side and enter into the children's center. Isabella and Pepe are listening so attentively that they don't even notice me. Their earthy teacher acts out the words of the storyteller. The other little girls, who race in a line to hug her as she leaves, turn and point, as I stand silently, not wanting to interrupt their private story circle.

Our Monday evening ritual, Isabella and Pepe get up and collect their things, his wide-set eyes follow me, he wants to hold his *own* bag of books, but I end up putting it in the basket. I set the pace, tired, but at the same time anxious to be home, always a bit nervous when walking both kids and the bike across the four lanes of traffic. We cross, after my gentle urging, they hold hands, two perfectly rhythmic swinging hands. I shelter them with my bike and my body, as if my body would really serve as protection if one of the right-hand-turners were to become distracted, but I do it anyway, the way that my mother's hand, for years would fly to the right when she braked too hard, always the protection of the precious life that we want to see grow.

They are adorable together, they are dragging behind me, Pepe tells Isabella to be a Koala and I have to extricate the leaves from her mouth. Then she comes running, whining, Pepe calling after her "I said I was sorry, I said I was sorry" and she, "Pepe punched me!" as she rubs her tummy. "Pepe, sweetie, let's try not to hit" Isabella interjects, "He didn't hit, he punched!" "But I said I was sorry" "I know, but sometimes sorry doesn't make the pain go away, it's better to try and not hurt in the first place."

"Vámonos niños!" They race along the semi-circular bench. "Niño y niña" she corrects me, unwilling to be included in the collective female annhilation of the Spanish language (or maybe just dealing with English interference?)

And we amble down the path, the darkening sky, trailing deep pinks and purples behind us. Pepe tells Isabella that he likes her pink shoes, that they are pretty. She disagrees! They whisper, and giggle, "I know, you are going to wear your brown shoes tomorrow." Isabella's eyes glow with joy. She asks if he can come over to watch "Peter Pan" but he says he doesn't like the fighting, to which she replies "you don't have to watch that part!" I eavesdrop, walking down the "secret" path that takes us down into the "forest" for a moment, before realligning with the bike path that leads past our house and all the way back out to the Marketplace. "Do you want to watch Power Puff Girls?" Pepe exclaims, "I love the Power Puff Girls". Isabella, "me too! I don't have the movie, I just have the CD." He asks in all his innocence, "can we watch the CD?" and she responds (equivocally, but so sure of herself!) "Yes, I'll just ask my daddy to put it on his computer."

I smile to myself. Life is still beautiful. It is. Sometimes I forget.