Mesmerized by my office toy; an egg timer filled with a viscous liquid. As the air creeps further into the top chamber it predictably welds its droplet tail into a perfect self-contained bubble. As it drifts up, no longer blocking the entrance hole; the feeder chambers small trickle becomes a collapsing unsteady mass of gloop until more escaping air burrows upwards. Each generation of bubble doing exactly the same as the first. I sat and pondered the lack of hypocrisy within the physical world of obedient spheres.
Ever ran so fast wind erodes the cheeks? I mean really ran. Almost shamed from making that claim considering it’s other cheeks that are eroded by wind these days, but back then, way back then… ‘free range’ sprinting across grass in the dark with nothing in the world ahead that could ever possibly stop you except your own breath. A dizzying intoxicating euphoria that only childhood grants to the carefree spirit that knows only excitement. Innocents personified in a skin-and-bone boy. I would make it my mission to get from one end of a street to another via each and every back garden. Oh, it was possible for most. Pulling oneself over walls with the skill of a soldier and dropping with stealth into the unknown below – that was the fun part. Dogs barking; people turning on lights and then waiting, heart racing, hidden; the adrenaline; the rush of wind; I was no conforming bubble.
The blessings of youth are either wasted or cherished, depending on which side of the fence you fall. And I was a hypocrite or ‘The Good Parent Experience’. We all want the very best for our children; and floating up the path of least resistance seems like the smart option for them to take. There are soon-to-be exams in my daughter’s life and I can’t help but move from the supportive sidelines to an active participant. I’m a terrible spectator. When she was no more than 5 years old I would tell her with brutal honesty she could do far better drawings. I knew her strengths as well as I knew my own weaknesses. She always came back with something that made me proud. They still exist as keepsakes; the others assigned to the bin. I turned over the fluid egg-timer.
Glass half empty or glass half full? What if it’s not the air trying to escape, but the liquid? It blobs to the floor and curls and snakes. It drifts and turns into whipped sausages. Ripples to the glass and back again; signs its eclectic pattern all over with wild abandon. It spins, it flows freely and drips indiscriminately wherever it can get through. Nothing can make us immune from hypocrisy, we just have to recognize it. The blessing is in where YOU fall. Pride will usually come before. We shouldn’t always expect the colours to stay within the lines. My daughter’s best drawings showing her spirit in the wind; now sadly gone. Enjoy the journey running in any direction; just be ready to catch those we love when, if ever, they do fall on the wrong side of the fence.
Thanks for visiting The Lemon Circus