a note*

Everything I post here I have previously published on the many other blogs I have had. This is a place for my favourites to rest. These are the wings that taught me i could fly and that there is life waiting, far beyond the ridge.

If you care to comment, just drop me an email at grayhawk77@yahoo.com


Monday, July 16, 2012

The Sandbox

There are happenings in life. Chance encounters that no one can plan for or see coming. Many times we mess them up and the chance is gone forever. But history cannot be changed and therefore we are changed forever by these occurrences. Maybe we've learned something. maybe we've grown a bit wiser. Maybe life is just a dirty sandbox. But small and large things remain pages in our book, bent at the corner so we can find them again in remembrance, and run our fingers over magic moments in happening.

There once was a little boy whose favorite thing to do in the whole wide world was to play alone in his sand box. Summer days would breeze by while he remained invisible to those passing by. Workmen to their jobs, old women to the store, firemen to their fires. The sun was warm and the sand seemed soft.
Mostly he would build castles and roads for his truck of three wheels. The castles would lean though, and they smelled of cat waste. An occasional cigarette butt would work its way to the surface. His roads, like his truck, were not very good. They never really went anywhere and they were broken and rough. The little boy also had a little army man but it’s leg was twisted and the face dirty. He never noticed any of these flaws however as he had nothing to compare them to. How could he know that castles should not lean or smell of cat poop, or that roads need go somewhere?
Then one day, when the sun was high, the breeze cool and the sand fair, the little boy felt a presence. He looked up to see a girl staring down at him. Though she blocked the sun it made little difference as she was the color of the sun and just as brilliant. Her soft smile calmed him and he lost himself in her shadow.
Without a word, the pretty girl with the sunlit hair stepped into the little boys world paying admission with a kind smile. She went to work as the little boy watched in wonderment. She sifted and cleaned and knocked down and picked out and started all over again. All the while, she never spoke a word, only smiled. The little boy didn’t watch her marvelous hands rebuild and transform though, he was busy studying her smile, her face. Finally, after a time, he spoke.
"What’s your name?"
She just smiled.
The little boy scratched his dirty nose.
"Where’d ya come from?"
She looked down and smiled again.
"Can you stay?"
She stopped smiling and brushed her hands on her thighs. She then rose up, stepped out without a word, and silently walked away.
The boy then looked down to see beautiful castles and splendid roads that went somewhere. He noticed that the little army man was clean and straight again. The truck now had four wheels and the smell of cats had become that of perfume.
The little boy also noticed that the sun was no longer out, a storm was coming. The rain suddenly came in sheets and the boy, having some sense, ran to shelter.
When the storm had passed, the little boy went back to the sand box. But the castle was no more. The roads had washed out. Gi joe had stolen the truck and a cat had come to call. The little boy with the runny nose and untied shoes looked everywhere for the pretty girl, but she was nowhere to be found.
He tried to build castles as before and roads leading to them but he couldn’t. They leaned and they smelled of cat and now he noticed. Now he knew.
Nothing would ever be the same.