Saturday, October 6, 2012
Even the Smallest Things
I love this picture of my granddaughter as she discovers water in the birdbath. I find myself wondering what she is thinking of that stuff trickling down her little fingers. Does she wonder what makes that stuff move when she splashes it around? Does she even notice that it takes her breath away when her splashing becomes nonstop and her face and hair and everything she is wearing becomes soaking wet yet despite it all it's so much fun that she giggles between catching her breath as the sun dancing through the trees transforms her into an angel shimmering in the backyard on a summer day?
When a child's imagination is triggered anything is possible. Leaves become forts and flying saucers. Stones become irrestible. They have to be picked up and tossed or brought inside to be stored away in secret places or maybe painted and saved as masterpieces-at least by parents and grandparents. Bubbles blown into the wind must be chased as fast as little legs can run although the bubbles are impossible to catch and hold and brought inside to store with those stones. But maybe catching them doesn't matter for as soon as the bubble being pursued pops and disappears or flies into the horizon, another bubble comes along and the chase begins again.
And then there are the sticks that become drum sticks making beautiful music when tapping sidewalks and front steps and back steps and old enamel chairs that have been tapped before by children now grown and now the ones so busy that they don't notice the flying saucers spinning around or that stuff in a birdbath that trickles down fingers when submerged on a summer day. That's when grandchildren step in and remind the adults of that Wonder everywhere and that's when the adults start to march or run or giggle or splash alongside the little one filled with a curiosity of even the smallest things.