It Began with a Blue Sneaker
Two separate
experiences on the car ride home from the city:
My eight
year old grand niece’s:
Look. Look.
A blue sneaker all alone Look, there in the gutter. That’s funny. A river with
a fountain spray right in the middle. Wow.
What? A big white mattress
leaning up against the fence. Right in the middle of traffic. What’s going on
here? A huge round building with lots and lots of stores inside. Unbelievable. Then
all those of crazy signs with names I‘ve never seen. And I can read them out
loud. I can shout them out loud. I can
sing them out loud. Yay. Something interesting for the boring adults in the car.
This has turned into a great ride. Too bad I’m so squished back here. I love
Aunt Marsha, but can’t wait till she gets out so I can breathe again . .Ahhh,
that’s better. She’s dropped me off at home. Byeee!
Mine:
On the way
home from the city, my grandniece’s enthusiasm grew exponentially. Every new
sight brought gasps of excitement, giggles and pointed fingers jabbing the air.
This was her game to keep from getting bored on the way home. Her father, my
nephew had squeezed me into the car, so I wouldn’t have to take the subway
home. My poor eardrums were stressed by my niece’s screams of delight. But my
being was astounded by her amazement at all the sights. She picked out one
detail after the next to be excited about. For me, these same buildings and
landmarks had become humdrum markers of our progress home. Where had my moments
of discovery gone? When had I lost that child-like enthusiasm for life’s minutia?
Maybe the child could teach the adult to regain that delight in the everyday
details and the magic of the mundane tasks.
Marsha H.
Sept 19, 2019
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