This evening we took the pram down the dirt road, way out the back, away from all the houses.
Running down the dirt road, Max and his family and the dog, running through the ribbons of late sunlight, running away from the winter.
Masie, the brown kelpie runs alongside the pram on her small truthful feet. She never swerves, never stumbles. She avoids neatly every pothole and rock in her path.
Max’s nose is streaming in the cold wind. Still he sits up straight, hanging onto each side of the pram, facing the cold, riding the evening. He sways with the pram, rides over the rocks and his eyes are fixed on the front, watching the things that only babies see. He turns to watch Masie still running quietly alongside, he holds out his hand toward her trotting ears. She acknowledges him kindly, noses his hand, continues to run. He calls out a baby tune which is tuneless but important. The pram vibrates his voice box, plays in his throat, he allows a stream of sound that goes on and on, pebbly and bouncing, he sings more loudly, delighted with his jogging voice, the humming sounds, both hands in the air, swaying and singing and the cold wind blowing and Masie running patiently, gently alongside the pram and the family.