“When are you going to let me write?” I asked my 7-year-old daughter Jordyn.“I’m letting you right now!” Jordyn announced happily as she kept chattering away, preventing any chance of me stringing a sentence together, much less an entire article.
“Want me to give you a topic?” Jordyn asked, hugging me as she glanced at my computer screen that had been completely blank for the past 15 minutes.
“Sure,” I answered, hugging her back. “What should I tell my readers this week?”
“I think you should write about the plane ride to Salt Lake City,” my daughter suggested.
Yeah … that’ll attract more readers!
“Or how about our car ride to Yellowstone?” she quickly shouted out.
Do people really want to hear about the six hours of fighting that occurred between my children as we tried to make our way through Wyoming?
“Oh! I know!” Jordyn suggested. “Why don’t you write about the squirrel we saw in our hotel this morning?”
I think my daughter is destined to be an author.
Then, without another word, Jordyn ran off toward a huge log that was begging for someone to play on it. And I watched with intrigue as she began to collect rocks and sticks and various other pieces of nature. I haven’t seen my daughter this happy our entire vacation. Yet, as she climbs over fallen logs, inspects bugs and leaves, and carries around branches in an attempt to build a fort, Jordyn is energized and excited.
We are currently at Yellowstone National Park, an incredibly untouched vast mass of land filled with beautiful wildlife, gorgeous trees and wildflowers, hot springs, erupting geysers and mountains. There are 1,000 miles of hiking trails, a lake that is several hundred square miles and the bluest of skies. And yet, my daughter prefers fallen logs and dirty rocks to any of the amazing attractions around us.
When my children were little, I often found myself wondering why I even bothered to buy them the newest and greatest toys when they seemed just as happy banging my pots and pans together and using the laundry basket as a boat. Today, as I watch my daughter excitedly drag around a six-foot-long stick that she has playfully named “Lola,” I find myself pondering the same question: Why do I feel the need to go a thousand miles from home with my family when my girls are just as happy to run around in our back yard?
Many of the other visitors to Yellowstone are sharing in my amusement as we all watch Jordyn playing without a care in the world. Many of us have come to Wyoming to relax and maybe even to escape. Yet, at the tender age of 7, my child can relax and enjoy herself just about anywhere.
I think there’s a lesson in all of this. I really do.
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by Sharon Dunski Vermont
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