The Wonder of "Owthide"

Practically every day, Radha pulls a pair of shoes out of the lowest drawer of her changing table, brings them to me and says, "Owthide." This, of course, means that she wants to go outside and see if anything has changed since her last visit there. Living in south Texas, not a lot changes. The grass may be a little greener in the summer and the trees have more leaves, but the seasons here do not bring a whole lot of change like you see in other regions of the country. I'm not saying that's a bad thing though since it has been conducive to a new favorite activity of ours. Twice in the past week, she has walked down the stone pathway in our backyard, while holding onto my hand, and set down in the small patch of grass where it ends. It's a very clean spot next to the fence where, thankfully, our dog does not "do his business". There, we sit and I watch as she sprinkles her hair with both live and dead grass blades, points out the occasional bug and attempts to taste various leaves she picks up (which I'm always on the lookout for). As amazing as an experience I'm sure this is for her, it has been just as powerful for me as I even caught myself wondering if this is what it was like for some primitive man eons ago spending what little time he could with his offspring. Even though I know it's not probable, she may retain memories of her very first forages into the outside world and even remind me of them somewhere down the road. Memories that could someday warm my heart when I no longer have the opportunity to enjoy sitting in a small, undisturbed patch of grass year round.