We visited Dinosaur Valley State Park in Glenn Rose, Texas a few weeks ago. There we found a wonderful trail that makes its way along a steep cliff and across some rocky terrain and it led us to several amazing fossilized footprints of dinosaurs.
Our younger daughters took the lead from the moment we stepped out of the car. It was fascinating to me because they don’t often do that in new situations.
As we wound our way down into the riverbed, they hollered for me several times from somewhere up ahead, “Dad, are you still there?” and, “Dad, use the path to your left, it’s easier than the one on the right.” and, “Dad, you won’t believe what we found!”
I hear them say these things from somewhere up ahead and I am mesmerized by the boundless joy and growing sense of Indiana-Jones-style adventure that compels them.
They are speaking to me with more than words though; it is the sounding bells of growing up, of taking just a few more steps away from their mother and me, a few more paths that are of their own making.
I am following them, a few steps back, but always listening, listening, listening…somewhere up ahead.