Summer at Seven

To approach the day as if the world depended on me to save it. To climb a tree with the intensity of someone on a mission. To ride my bike with a sense of great purpose and determination. And to run from here to there as if I were pursuing the evilest villain alive.

Every day was a great adventure. It was an opportunity to live out the saga and storyline that I had imagined in my head. Every day was about being a seven-year-old boy created for something larger than himself.

This was my summer at seven years old in Clifton Park, New York.

I often fondly remember the three years my family lived there. These memories are full of outdoor fun, neighborhood games, no schedules, sleeping without air conditioning, and the first conscious recollection of being my own person.

All of these thoughts have come full circle now as I watch my son Jack begin his summer vacation at the age of seven. His blonde hair and blue eyes remind me of my younger days. His long gangly legs and Irish skin remind me of my own body and skin color. He runs everywhere with a sense of ferocity, as if not running would mean the end of the world as we know it.

I don’t think of my childhood as often as I should these days. But within it lies a rekindled sense of life filled with dreams, hopes, and wonder—a sense of the present.

And there lies the secret to life.

To be in the present long enough to know that you are a part of the most incredible adventure there is…

The Journey of a Soul.

Thank you, Jack.

“Souls are like athletes that need opponents worthy of them, if they are to be tried and extended and pushed to the full use of their powers.”

-Thomas Merton