A Day in the Hijab of Shama

Yesterday I took my kids to the park. They've been closed up in the house for several days. The weather has been a bit cold. It was still a bit nippy out. But the sun was shining. So I dressed them up in their jackets and hats. I dressed my 1 year old girl 5 times because she has recently stepped into the realm of "I can dress and undress myself."
To my 4 year old son's disappointment, we had the park to ourselves. I was thrilled because I could let my daughter loose on the playground without worrying about another child knocking her over in hot pursuit of the swings. So they played. She painstakingly climbed the stairs over and over in order to experience that 4 second thrill of quickly moving down the slide. He grabbed every large stick he could find and pretended to ward off danger from his perch at the top of the monkey bars/park apparatus/dohicky thing.
I sat on the bench, holding my scarf tightly to prevent that all embarrassing "wind blowing the khimar off the head from the back" issue. I stared out at the field in front of me. A huge, green abyss with the signs of Autumn scattered about stared back. I heard it breathing slow, constant breaths. The leaves scattered with each exhale. I smelled the organic aroma of it's breath as the green field called to me. "Run, Girlie Run!", it said. I stood, stepped out of the wood chips and onto the green. I began my pace slowly walking and then briskly jogging. As I drifted farther from the kids, I heard my son call out to me. But I couldn't respond. I continued. Faster and faster, breathing with the green. I became a black streak shooting across the field. I was the speed of light. Running. Yes, this girlie was running. Running to or running from, I don't know.
When I finally stopped, I looked behind to see my babies running after me. They giggled and tumbled as they tried to catch up to me. I opened my arms and they tackled me to the earth. We rolled on the field, laughing. I think I heard greeny laughing too.