The Boy (4 1/2-year-old grandson) is interested in the daily weather. He notices the colors of the clouds and sky. If the clouds are grey, he assumes it’s going to rain. He asks his mother many times each day, “Is it going to rain today?” “It might,” she replies, “the clouds are very grey and looking heavy.” He’s satisfied for the moment.
He also notices if any blue sky is visible. If there is, perhaps it won’t rain today, at least not right now. “I see some blue sky,” he says, pointing out the car window to the precise blue he sees.
Not long ago, he and his mother and I were riding in the car. We were having our usual weather discussion. “There’s a patch of blue,” I said, directing him to look at the right location. He found another blue patch in the opposite direction. “I see another one,” he said excitedly.
Before long, he declared again, “I see another hatch of blue!”
“Where?” I asked.
“Right ober dare!” he said, pointing out his car window.
“Mommy, did you see the hatch of blue?” He’s insistent that we all see it.
“I can’t look right now. I’m driving,” she replies with much motherly calmness and belief.
Though he hears well and pronounces most words correctly, for some unknown reason “patch of blue” is “hatch of blue” for him.
He’s been known to correct his mother when she says “patch of blue.”
“No,” he says insistently, “Mommy, it’s hatch — hatch!” like she doesn’t know better. I’m sure she smiled to herself over that one. Nothing like being corrected by a child.
“Hatch of blue” is now part of the family lexicon. We all say it. It’s a warm, happy, huggy kind of phrase.
I’ve just spent a week with long-time friends on the Carolina Coast. The rain has pelted us every day, accompanied by thunder and ragged lightning bolts. The sky has been grey, the ocean has been grey, the ceiling has leaked, the roads have been covered in water. Not that it hampered our plans and activities. In fact, I rather liked watching the storms from the security of the house.
Every once in awhile a teeny bit of blue sky poked through the clouds. I took a few photos for The Boy because
- he would be as excited as we were
- he loves a hatch of blue
- I want to share my beach time with him
And mostly because searching for a hatch of blue in the middle of a storm is about always looking the the good things, the things that make us happy, the things that bring us joy, the things that cause us to say excitedly, “Did you see that?” We need to share the little hatch of blue that broke through the greyness of a beach storm.
Sometimes we get so consumed with the storm that we miss the hatch of blue. We don’t even look for such a thing because we’re sure it will be overcome by whatever storm we are experiencing.
I hope you see a hatch of blue, no matter how fierce the storm that rages around you.
Until next Tuesday . . .