The toys in the backyard are lonely for playtime. Their diesel engines are still, no black smoke pouring from their exhaust stacks, no mud on the tires. My little boy looks out the kitchen window at the pile of summer toys sitting in the gravel under fresh snow. He looks concerned.

“There is a season for everything, son. I promise.”  I say as he looks up at me for answers. “The summer sun will come back for you, she always does. She loves to hear your laughter too.”

We return to indoor playtime and colorful books…

He is learning about seasons and the changing moods of the planet he lives on. Someday he will understand the sky and the mysteries of the soil under his feet, he will meet the ocean. But right now he is concerned about his little truck in the backyard, as a little boy should be.

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