prompt: write something happy.

it’s about ten in the morning and i’m sitting under two trees by cayuga. it’s quiet and it’s warm, but the grass is cool. people come and go; all ready three different people have vacated a bench a few feet away from me in a prime location. the man who is here now has a pair of binoculars and gazes across the lake. i wonder if he is looking for anything in particular. he’s pulled out a book- he will stay awhile.

two blonde, curly haired children run barefoot up and down the dock. their giggles pierce the silence of the breezy lake’s atmosphere, but nobody seems to mind. these children and their onlooking mother are accepted as part of this calm environment, despite the chaos they bring. 

leaves are twisting, falling from the sweeping branches that eternally wave to their sisters across the water the sun disappears for a moment and noses rise from books and journals. it reemerges and we are once again covered in its radiance. 

the children have settled at the end of the dock, dangling their toes in the green water alongside their mother. she clenches the skinny of her cotton dress, so not to get too wet. her face, freckled like the pattern on her dress, turns towards the sun. the smile growing on her face feels intimate, as though it was meant for only her and the sky to witness. she is happy.

her children kick water her way and her moment of bliss is gone, replaced by a moment full of love as she wraps her arms around her curly haired monsters. i am the only one who seems to notice this interaction, and i feel as though i am intruding. i continue to watch anyway, inspired by the genuine joy.

the man reads on. 

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s