the simple pleasures
lost, overlooked, found again
moon rises in eyes

It is evident that your family doesn't get out much when the littlest member has his mind 100% blown by being outside in the dark.

Standing on a friend's backyard deck, way past his bedtime, marveling over the sounds of a quiet guitar and tall trees overhead, Ike-a-saurus spotted the moon between the branches of the trees and pointed. "Moon." He said. "Night."

"Yes," I answered quietly. "It's nighttime. It's late."

"Sun?" he whispered.

"The sun went down," I whispered back. "And the moon came up."

"Dark." He affirmed. "Dark outside. Night."

"That's right," I said. "That's what happens at night."

"Sun! Down!" he exclaimed, pointing his finger in an arc to the ground. "Moon! Trees!"

And it was like watching his brain grow right before me, an expansion in his eyes I could see reflected with the moonlight. The little boy whose world had been so protected, so contained, was out after dark, in a new place, with new people, new sounds, and he was in awe of this small, but epic expansion to his world.

I don't think I can properly describe the mix of emotions this stirs. But, overwhelmingly, good tops sad.

Maybe there's something to say about a delayed debut to the outside world. It slows time, accentuates beauty, and reminds me, like so many other things lately, how easy it is to take even the simplest experiences for granted.