Missing Little Ian

I’ve been thinking a lot about my littlest guy today.  I was sitting on my front porch this morning with a cup of tea and heard the chattering of little voices.  I looked down the street to see a double line of preschoolers – about 25 of them- being led on a walk by 3 adult women.  My street doesn’t have a sidewalk, and the adults struggled to hold the little ones in formation and keep them to the side of the street.  They had quite a bit of difficulty as they passed my house as the mailbox drew a lot of attention and the children kept reaching out to touch the evergreen hedge.  As they came back down the other side of the street, one little boy broke away and went whirling through the tall, unmown grass across the street.  That would have been Ian.

This was going to be Ian’s year, when he would finally get to go to preschool like the “big guys.”  He was very excited about it.  He would have been quite a handful, because he had insatiable curiosity, boundless energy and not an ounce of fear.  He blew through life like a hurricane, mercurially jumping from one thing to the next without thought.  When he broke something or got into trouble as was inevitable, he was usually genuinely surprised.  It never occurred to him that anything could possibly go wrong, or that you would actually get mad at him, even though you had told him repeatedly not to continue with what he was doing.  There were no half measures with Ian.  He threw himself into life with great abandon, and lived totally in the moment.  It might not be a good idea to build a ladder out of chairs and climb to the top, but once imagined, the deed had to be carried through to fruition immediately, no matter the consequences.

So yes, Ian would have been learning to walk in a line holding hands with a partner.  (Probably a girl, because Ian just loved little girls).  But he couldn’t have resisted opening and closing the mailbox several times, and pulling needles off the hedge, even if it pricked his fingers.  And as for the yard of unmown grass, waving knee high in the gentle breeze… absolutely irresistable.  Just like Ian.  I miss him.  Monkey

 

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