Sunday, October 22, 2006
fall
I've discovered a new playground: it's at the bottom of a sloping hill and has a good variety of structures to play in and on. There are numerous well-shaded benches, but yesterday it was cold in the shade, so I sat in the sun on a short stone wall that safely divided the swingers from the runners and climbers.
A father was walking down the hill towards the playground. A little boy that looked to be around three years old lagged behind him, scuffling his feet in leaves that piled in drifts. Daddy! the child shouted. Daddy! My teacher said IT'S FALL!.
The little boy bent to examine the evidence at his feet: what was green, what he remembered as being UP was now crunchy and brown and DOWN. His father turned towards the boy. "Do you know what causes that?", he asked. The little boy did not look up from the leaves. Yes! he said. His father was unconvinced. "What causes that?", he asked. The little boy was gathering leaves. His voice was loud and excited and had that small child cadence of words being sung. Because he leaves are falling down from the trees.
"No", his father said. He moved closer to the child. I could not hear his scientific explanation; I do not know if he said that the leaves were dead or if he talked about life cycles and the spinning of the planet Earth. Satisfied with his explanation, the boy's father proceeded to the playground. His son followed reluctantly, hands full of collected leaves.
The little boy came into the circle things to climb and stood still, frozen with indecision. He held his arms straight in front of him, his small fists bulging with the leaves he had found. He would have to let go of them to play, and he hesitated for a moment, unwilling to part with his treasure. Then, almost as if they had never matter to him at all, he opened his palms and ran towards the slide.
The leaves fluttered to the ground like wings.
A father was walking down the hill towards the playground. A little boy that looked to be around three years old lagged behind him, scuffling his feet in leaves that piled in drifts. Daddy! the child shouted. Daddy! My teacher said IT'S FALL!.
The little boy bent to examine the evidence at his feet: what was green, what he remembered as being UP was now crunchy and brown and DOWN. His father turned towards the boy. "Do you know what causes that?", he asked. The little boy did not look up from the leaves. Yes! he said. His father was unconvinced. "What causes that?", he asked. The little boy was gathering leaves. His voice was loud and excited and had that small child cadence of words being sung. Because he leaves are falling down from the trees.
"No", his father said. He moved closer to the child. I could not hear his scientific explanation; I do not know if he said that the leaves were dead or if he talked about life cycles and the spinning of the planet Earth. Satisfied with his explanation, the boy's father proceeded to the playground. His son followed reluctantly, hands full of collected leaves.
The little boy came into the circle things to climb and stood still, frozen with indecision. He held his arms straight in front of him, his small fists bulging with the leaves he had found. He would have to let go of them to play, and he hesitated for a moment, unwilling to part with his treasure. Then, almost as if they had never matter to him at all, he opened his palms and ran towards the slide.
The leaves fluttered to the ground like wings.
