Braeden and I usually find some magic in our day, but one experience last week was quite surreal.
We walked down to Third Street Dock (the beach with the stairs, as I call it for Braeden). Upon settling my bum into the rocks, I noticed how warm they were. Ooh, what a comforting feeling on a breezy spring day. The sunshine sparkled on the surface of Lake Superior, making her look even more majestic than I already knew she was.
Sploosh! went a rock from Brady P's hand. He looked and me and clapped. Sploosh! went another. That boy has a great arm for throwing rocks. He's had lots of practice over the last year. We sat pitching different sizes and colors of smooth stones that the lake tossed up.
Then I heard a noise coming from Porter's Island -- just across the Harbor. It was the calm cooing of a loon!
I didn't realize the loons were still around at that time. "Braeden! A loon!" I told him excitedly. "Listen!" But the loon was silent, so I took a turn.
I never polished my loon call. It was pretty subpar, and not quite believable, but I let it rip. It was a combo of a whistle and a hum to produce one of their wilder calls.
All the sudden the water splashed at Porter's Island. I didn't have binoculars, but I knew it was the loon thrashing by the shore. It let out its calm coo again. "Braeden, the loon!" I shouted as I aimed his little face toward the opposite shore. I don't think he was as fascinated as I was because he continued to throw rocks at his usual pace.
The next thing I knew, a loon two docks east of us was calling back to the loon on the island! Wow! They had a short conversation, but I wasn't done. I whistle-hummed my call again, and the loon on Porter's answered, being echoed by the one on our shore. "Awesome, Brady P!" I high fived him and we threw some more rocks.
The loons were quiet after that.
A few minutes later, I saw the loon from our shore swimming past us, toward the middle of the harbor. "Braeden, the loon is swimming!" I pointed, hoping he would get a glimpse. Soon it dunked under and he looked at me as if to ask, "Where did it go?"
"There!" I pointed again once it resurfaced. By this time, in my line of sight, I saw the island loon making its way toward the middle of the harbor, too. Were they going to meet? How cool would that be? I made a wish, and told myself it would come true if the loons found each other. I kept track of their progress in between trying to skip rocks -- a skill I really need to work on.
Soon I caught a glimpse of them both again. Together! They swam and dunked beside each other in the chilly waters of the Big Lake. "Aw," I thought. "A match made in heaven."
I breathed in the sunny, cool, fresh air and thought about how grateful I was to be there at that moment. The streets were quiet. The sun was waking up the trees, the flowers and our spirits. My job as a stay-at-home mom was pretty unbelievable when the days were made up of moments like this.
I watched little Brady P do his thing. His surfer blonde locks glinted in the sunlight. His heart was so at peace out here on the shore. His busy little mind and body launched one rock after another. He would always shout, "Ah!" when he wanted me to look at how big the rock in his hand was. "That's a big one, Brady P!"
He would smile and chuck it as far as he could. Then clap again. So proud.