Nostalgic Legeica
It is raining now.
"Rain". I understand that to be that thing that makes the sky - "sky", another word I overheard - turn gray sometimes, and sometimes it brings wind and sometimes then I get wet, but other times it comes quietly, and I can see it falling in the sky, which might still be blue, and those times are my favorite, because sometimes then I see the colors appear. Little kids like the colors too, and the parents always point and say, "Look, a rainbow!" so I know that those colors are called "rainbow". I learn so much from listening. Not all of the others bother listening, but I like it.
This was one of the quiet rains; already the sun is drying up the bits of wetness that make the grass sparkle. I like the sun. While I go around, sometimes I am in the darker, cooler part - I think it's called the "spade"? The "shade"? Something like that. But then I will be in the sun, and it feels good to be smiled upon by that brightness, even if it makes me crack and peel occasionally.
I like the sun for another reason, too: it brings out the children. They are my favorite thing in the whole wide world, more than the rainbow and the sparkling grass and the smiling warmth and all the wonderful things I see. Sometimes they are not so fun, because sometimes they cry, which is sad and loud, and other times they might be in a bad mood and argue with their family, and sometimes they are just very little and messy. Sometimes there are kicks and pulling and fighting. But then there are the smiles, and they are brighter and warmer than even the sun, and they are the realest real thing I can think of. There is no pretend. I feel real too, when they smile like that.
Every day the children come, and every day the music plays, and every day I see my things. Well, maybe they are not really my things. But I see them every day, and I feel like maybe they could be mine. Here comes the music, and right now I am alone, but that is okay; I know it will not last forever. Maybe next time the music plays, I will be with someone. I hope it is the little girl I saw yesterday; I know I should not have favorites, but she comes again and again, and so often she picks me, and that makes me feel good. Yesterday she gave me a name. She called me "Betsey". Now I am like the "rain" and the "sky" and the "rainbow": people can talk about me with my very own name. I would like to show her my things: the man who makes the music play and lets the children come; the street lamp that glows at night like its own little sun; the fence that keeps the big noisy honking machines on their own side, away from me; the trees with the tables in front where the people can sit and eat; the little spewing water machine that gives people drinks, and the big one that shoots the water straight up into the air and sometimes has ducks swimming in it; and back to the man who makes the music play. I wonder if the girl could give me more names for the things I see. Maybe she could even tell me what I am. I know I am not like her; I cannot move anywhere I wish like she does. I do not know if I would even want to move anywhere else. I like where I am. The children can find me here. That is what I know about what I am: I am quite sure I am here to make the children happy. I even think I am good at it. That makes me happy. I am happy.
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Kaylene
profile by Athene
carousel image from Oh Happy Day
story by Hope
