We want them to lust, wander- and otherwise. We want them to wonder, to crave. They know of contrails and shooting stars and kite-strings and the paths of their own hearts. We want them never to see a world of constraints; we want them always to see a universe of possibilities.
We want them to stretch beyond their frames. Beyond themselves. We want them to know that they are not all. That they are tiny – and that that is wondrous.
We want them to know that there is more than we can give and we want them to know that we want them to go touch all of it.
We want them to know that we might (at this moment) be mortgage-bound job and community and routine and responsibility suburban cliché dullards, but that we believe in the hobo. The dreamer. The wayfarer. The backpacker. The passport. The hostel. The rucksack. The free spirit.
And so, tomorrow: a taste. A tease. An energy-thrummer. A horizon-expander.
But first, the mundanities we address whilst they slumber. I need to do laundry, and I need to pack.
===*From Walt Whitman's "A Noiseless Patient Spider"