The brown stripe of joy

The weather was warmer than it has been in quite a while. The mounds of snow were liquefying. Jackets were unzipped or not worn at all. I was working on my car, with the garage door open. Looking out on my narrow perspective on the world I heard the sound of a child coming up the sidewalk. A boy about four years old rode past my garage on a little bicycle with little tiny wheels.

He headed straight into a large dark puddle lurking across the sidewalk. A large spray of water spewed up the child’s back. As he rode by me I noticed that the back of his coat had a large streak of brown, all the way to his collar. Muddy water dripped off his back and on to his tiny rear wheel. All the time his eyes glowed with adventure and joyfulness, fully celebrating the end of winter, and the advent of spring.

Age clouds enthusiasm. There are too many things to be considered and too much lost if not attended to. Oh to be a child again, to boldly plunge into an activity with no thought of consequence.

I know that any mess I make will have to be cleaned up by me, so I imbibe in restraint, and live, if only vicariously, through a four year old boy on a little bike with tiny wheels, plunging headlong into a mud puddle. And in a small way, I encountered joy.