“The way to love anything is to realize that it might be lost.” ~G.K. Chesterton
I almost jumped out of the car to join them on the tennis courts. But something told me to stop and watch them play together. They’d found a tennis ball and were throwing it from one side of the court and over the net to the other. One would do a little screech and throw it and other would do the same and catch it.
I was almost in tears as I watched them. They were mates. Soul mates came to mind.
As I sat with my book on my lap, I reviewed the day. We’d taken a walk though the woods which ended at a playground. They slid down heavily sanded slides, giving each other permission to pull and push each other at the bottom. Once in a while their excitement got the better of them and one would come crying to me because sand was in his eyes.
But forgiveness came quickly. It had to. They needed each other.
Then we spent a couple of hours at the beach down the street. I visited with a neighbor and watched James and Kenny play, argue, and follow each other onto the sand and into the water to wash it off and start all over again.
Finally, at 7pm., I loaded their bikes into the car and we headed for the playground, skipping dinner because playing was more important. I brought my book and parked facing the tennis courts.
They are so lucky to have each other. That’s what brought the tears. Their friendship is so rocky at times. I often get frustrated with the arguing and the tears. But they love each other. They don’t see what I see. That’s the beauty of children. They understand that in order to play and to overcome loneliness, they need to learn to dance around difficulties. Sometimes things don’t work out and they need some time apart. But eventually they are seeking each other out again.
I went back to reading and when I looked up they were gone. I visually searched the soccer fields, tennis courts and play equipment. They were nowhere. So I beeped the horn. Nothing. I beeped again. Still nothing. I sat and watched. Three more beeps brought them scurrying out of the woods, out of breath, James following Kenny, all smiles, ready to go home. I thought I’d get an argument to stay longer, but they climbed in and decided it was time for dinner; their bellies were growling.
As I drove home I thought about how complicated we can make things, and how lonely we become when we forget how to be childlike – having fun sharing life together, forgiving the “sand in the eyes”, and taking care of each other in the “deep and dark woods”.
All of a sudden it seemed laughable that their arguing was bothering me more than them! They were fine and would have it no other way. Their friendship was more important than their arguments. They were just taking little stands and expressing their needs and wants in the only ways they knew how. They’ll learn to communicate better, hopefully, but what I’m sure of now, and what I appreciate today is that their love and gratitude for each other is already mature.
Something to think about today. Have a good one!