Marching soldiers.

With two boys in tow, I strolled down the sidewalk of the picturesque town of Essex, CT. Finding a good place to take a pause, I propped myself on the edge of the sidewalk. Looking to where the traditional double yellow line would be, one could see a red, white and blue line running down Main Street. We would soon see a parade of costumed fife and drummer groups slowly make their way down to the water.  The thunderous clap of the drums could be felt deep within my belly.  The eyes of the 10-year-old friends were glued on the costumes of the colorful soldiers. They were stepping back in time, unaware of the hints of modern life around them.  It is rare these days when children can be fully transported from modern day reality. But for a moment, as they sat in front of the Old Griswold Inn, time was irrelevant.  They went back to the house and picked up wooden muskets, fully willing to continue to leave the modern world behind. They would fall into the grass like wounded soldiers, get up and do it again and again.  And while no mother truly enjoys war games, the boys’ instincts to defend are hard to deny. In a time when everything can be found on a screen, it's a relief to know history can still be three dimensional.With their imaginations deeply entrenched in American history, who can repudiate? We are only young for a short while. We need to let our imaginations run wild. An adult view upon the world is quite different from a child’s and they should bask in it for as long as possible. As I watched our Governor make his proclamation from the steps of the town hall, I knew they saw the figurehead differently than I may. As I left the Festival of the Burning Ships, I was glad for it’s pomp and circumstance. It took my adult mind away from its burdens, even if only for a few moments. Now, that’s one small everyday miracle I am grateful for.