My Favorite Part of Summer

I walk down the trail in our neighborhood with the boys in the double stroller, their heads bent toward each other. The breeze lifts their hair, both dark blonde, one straight and thick and the other fine and curly. The rhythm of the stroller bounces them together, their shoulders touch, legs overlap, and feet dusty from play hang loosely. Though they often squabble, time in the stroller is usually peaceful; they are distracted by people, dogs, buses, bicycles. I spend the rare quiet time marveling that these two beings are my sons.