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Vignette 2/52: Balconies.

“Time is not a line, but a series of now-points.” – Taisen Deshimaru

This is the first time in four years I have experienced an Ontario autumn. The strangest part of this is that Q has hair. For some reason, this is messing with me. Another strange thing is that I have found myself spending a lot of time with him on balconies.

I know that I have been spending a lot of time on balconies with him because the last time we found ourselves on one, he said, “Ok Mom, let’s play.” And I knew what he meant.

Sitting high above, we maintain a stillness with our eyes scanning the action below.

I go first. “I spy with my little eye a poor dog being carried across the street…oh wait, it’s still being carried into the park!” It’s an easy one for Q and he bursts out laughing as he thinks about me trying to carry Phife across the street. (Phife is our 200lb rottweiler back in Costa Rica.)

And on another balcony, he gives me a hard one.

“Mom, my turn. I spy with my little eye something white.”

Good God, Q. I start pointing to buildings, words on signs, window frames, the itty bitty details of clothing. In this moment, I am so grateful for my vision. It’s not getting any better as I age. I cherish my able participation in this live version of “Where’s Waldo?”

He has that look. That look with his long hair covering one eye and his smirk that he knows he has got me. After a solid ten minutes, I finally give up. He points to the lake and says, “Mom, the whitecaps. I didn’t know there could be whitecaps on a lake.” He says this with the same awe when he finds a fiery red maple tree in the distance while I guess at the man dressed all in red that looks like a walking tomato.

I know why Q with long hair is strange. He’s grown and doesn’t remember autumn here. The balconies give both of us a different view. With every “I Spy,” I can see what he sees for a moment and adjust my own vision to the beauty of change.

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