Oak Tree Farms - Snowmobiling, Meeting Our Future

It was just too tempting - lots and lots of snow and a couple of Polaris snowmobiles - one of which, at the last minute, decided to be mutinous and not start - so 3 of us piled on one. And yes - we just had to do it!  4-year-old Isaiah in front, Bill Makens in the middle, I was hanging on for dear life at the back, chortling.

White everywhere - very cold - snow mukluks up to my knees, wrapped in layers and layers of clothes to about twice my normal size, topped off with a snowmobile helmet - 60 miles per hour down the straightaway - very exhilarating.

Then we swapped out the middle driver, and Isaiah's dad, Michael Makens took us for another ride - we jumped a slight knoll, got a little airborne on the back there, then we slowed down to navigate around a snow drift, and oops - I slid off into a snow bank that was right beside the Polaris.

With great concern in his eyes, Isaiah asked me if I was bleeding; I said, "No, not even a bruise." Actually  it was like falling into a feather bed, except softer ... and wetter. After my third assurance that I was not bleeding, not hurt, he asked me if I was scared. I said I didn't have time to get scared, it was all over so quick. Then he looked up at me through all those lush, black eyelashes and said, "I was only scared a little bit." So touching. Four years old, solicitous of others, and a truth-teller. I have a lot of hope for our future.

PS  That's a stock picture of a snowmobile, I didn't have my camera. And that is a real life picture of Isaiah Makens.

Comments

[John Coats]

Pam and I had had lunch with Jenny and our grandsons. We were in the parking lot, saying our goodbyes when, suddenly, Tyler, the youngest, about four at the time, and looking very worried, asked Pam, "Does it huwt (childtalk for 'hurt')?" Pam asked what he meant. Tyler pointed to a red smudge on Pam's shoe. It took a moment but the adults finally got it that he'd mistaken dried red paint for blood. When Pam explained, he was relieved, so much so that, after we'd hugged and were walking toward our car,Tyler came running after Pam for a second hug. It was touching in the way that such precious-child moments can be for any of us--parents, grandparents, or simply observers. What makes it a remarkable event in my memory, however, is that, these years later, even after his parents' bitter separation and divorce, that compassion remains intact--has, in fact, grown larger.