“The children,” she said, trying to lift her hand, but only able to look their way, nod her head toward the playground outside her window.
“What about them, Mama, is the noise bothering you, do you want me to ask them to be quiet?”
“No, no,” she said, “I like to hear them, their voices. Don’t you? It’s the children. They will always play.”
She closed her eyes. I listened.
I thought about this, and while I stood there thinking, I suddenly felt how my legs planted themselves, grew down through the floor, pushed through the foundation, and took root in the soil, because I had heard it too now, steadfast youth, forever there, forever moving on, commited more and more to the earth coming closer.
She was nearer though, her commitment at this moment as strong as it could be.
She opened her eyes again, smiled at me, and said, “It’s good. They’ll move on as we’ve moved on, and the best consolation is that there will always be more children playing.”
She closed her eyes, blossoming. I knew exactly what she meant.
* * * * *
Happy #WriterSunday : ) Today’s writing prompt is
Use the #WritingPrompt to inspire a piece of writing of any kind, any length, and then post that piece as a comment below. I would love to read it : )