I’m watching Sydney watch the changing scenery through the window of our van.
We have traveled 650 miles in just over a day. We have moved through ever changing scenery; desert turned to forest, cacti to evergreens, and slowly, the desert sand is turning to vegetation. The temperature has dropped by 40 degrees, and we have played in snow in flip flops.As I watch Sydney’s little face take it all in, I am tempted to interpret it for her; to share with her exactly what I see. But that is my experience, not hers.I have shared some of my observations, and offered to open conversation, but this is her trip. I do not want her to see it as I do.Though she only turned 4 last week, this ride is shaping her. It is becoming a part of her. Somewhere, and some time, she will pull from these days of watching the land change, though she may not recall it.
I’m taking photographs, and keeping a log, so that both of my children have a record of it. That is my part; recording my experience as their mother.
So as I watch my daughter’s face as she looks through our van’s window, I will keep my mouth closed. Rather than telling her what she should see, I will look forward to the day when she tells me all about it.