We had a busy weekend of playing and spectating (and I forgot the camera for all of it, so no pictures this time). It included a Saturday outing to Sprewell Bluff State Park -- where we threw rocks in the river, played Frisbee, listened to bluegrass music and watched (from the car because Will was frightened by the noise) as DNR officials fired a flare gun over water to start a prescribed fire on the bluff across the river -- and a Sunday low-key, budget version of the Thunder in the Valley Air Show. The boys napped until late afternoon so we caught the tail end of the show from our free and not-quite-so-close-up seats in front of CSU’s Cunningham Conference Center. It was a nice lazy-afternoon way to watch an air show.
But the highlight of the weekend for me was the few minutes I spent as spectator on Saturday night, when on the tail of a delicious dinner we shared with some friends in rural Harris County, I watched as four dads and six children engaged in a whirlwind game of chase – kids laughing and squealing in delight; fathers throwing kids up in the air; everyone running at a sort of exuberant circular pace; Will roaring like a tiger and clawing the air; and Owen, tucked under Rob’s arm, joining in the chase too. I cannot think of a time when I’ve witnessed a small crowd of people caught up in such unfettered joy.
It was the kind of moment I think you’d only see between fathers and their children. And maybe because I missed the beginning of the game, and saw it only when it had reached a sort of breathtakingly happy pace, the whole scene looked sort of magical there in the dusk.