Worth Repeating

When my sons, Luke and Gray, were in elementary school, we drove home from school on a really windy day—the trees bent sideways, the car shook with every big gust, and traffic lights swung from their wires. Leaves swirled everywhere.  At a red light, a bunch of crows blew over the intersection like scraps of black paper.

 "I wonder how they aim in wind like this?" I asked.

"They don't," Luke said.  "They just try to not lose sight of each other."

Gray said, "One time I saw a crow who'd been in a fight.  When he flew you could see the sky through his wings."

I scribbled their words on my hand so I wouldn't forget.