As I settled into my library nook, feet perched on the windowsill and a full view of the water-less fountain, I observed a rare scene of children running and jumping into the blue-painted garden tub. I think they found an even greater joy sans the flowing water.
The first kid jumped into the fountain, the class clown, no doubt, and then his posse of muck-ups and other hyper-active kids followed suit. Soon enough, the teacher approached and found muse in this delightful scene of children jumping about in this water-less vessel. Chuckling to himself and probably imagining my same thought of had there actually been water in the fountain.
It wasn't until another teacher approached that the first instructor grudgingly called his following to ascend the nearby steps to another place on their agenda. The moment had passed.
Tomorrow, the children will not remember their triumph of splashing about in a water-less fountain. They will not remember this small victory. If they hadn't done this, it wouldn't have been detrimental or held them back in life. Either way, they won't tell their parents that it was the highlight of their day. They won't remember. No, but I will.
And as I observed this happening, I listened to "Dash" by Snow Patrol. Oddly enough, I can't find the song anywhere else through my computer resources except that it is on my iPhone. Basically, the entire 3 minutes is the sound of children at a playground and distant chatter.
AND while I was searching for the song on youtube to link to this blog, I found this strange gem that sent me into unpleasant spouts of chortling laughter. The people on the quiet floor of the library hate me right now.
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