Que Sera Sera

"What are we doing, Garret?" I asked him. He was quiet. I cued him, "We are wa--", to which he replied, "Wau-king" (walking).

It was time for our daily afternoon walking exercise around the neighborhood. The sudden downpour an hour before cooled the air, a comfort to our senses. We were quiet while we walked. Garret, taking in the surroundings, the bluest sky, the birds flying all over, the sight of a mound of sand gathered on the corner of a house, and scrunching sound under his shoes as he intentionally walked on it, an occasional swinging of a neighbor's gate, the sound of a gardener's cellphone braying out a song from the radio, several kids playing basketball, the sound of our own footsteps and everything else. I was taking it all in too. The ambient noise, the afternoon light, the quiet. My own breath going in and out of my body relishing every movement of my muscles, clearing out cluttered thoughts and worries for the future.

The future. It used to terrify me. It still does sometimes. The uncertainty overwhelms my heart. But I try not to think about it too much. No use dwelling on what hasn't arrived yet. If there's one thing my boys have taught me, it is to be fully present in the moment. To capture and relish each day. To appreciate today. Every thing good and bad. To be grateful to the Universe for what my boys achieve. To take pride in what I have achieved today, what I have become as a woman, a mother, a life partner, a friend, a human being as of this very moment.

I look at my dear boy walking happily beside me. An airplane looms overhead. I tell him, "Look, Garret, airplane!" It takes two or three seconds for him to look up and say, "eh-plane!" Oh how my heart expanded! Walking, airplane. Two words. Two purposeful words.

Today was my future a few years ago when I did not even think my son would ever speak. Today was the future I was terrified of before. I'll keep reminding myself of this fact especially on days when uncertainty grips me. Today was beautiful. Fear of the future, my boys' future should have no room in my heart any longer.

We finished our walking and sat on the front steps of our house watching the sun go down and the skies transforming into night. And I remembered a song my mom used to sing to me as a kid and sang it to my little boy, "Que sera, sera, whatever will be will be, the future's not ours to see, que sera, sera."