throwing sand

On my brisk autumn walk this afternoon, I walked down the canal on Village Road. Or Village Drive. Village Something, anyway. But before I digress, allow me to progress. Three boys were playing in the canal, all probably eight years old. As I approached, one of them climbed out of the canal to join his friend on the bank. The third one stayed below.

"Hi," said the boy in the striped shirt as I passed by.

"Hi," said I. "Having fun?"

"Yeah."

"Good deal."

I continued on, not expecting further conversation. But then I heard a bright voice pipe up behind me. So, still walking, I half-turned to look.

It was the second boy, the little blond one. "I'm just throwing sand," he informed me, matching action to words.

I chuckled. "That sounds fun, too."

The little blond one looked at me one more time, then scattered another handful of glittering sand as he pronounced: "I lost all my strength just getting up here."

I don't remember what I said in response, but it doesn't matter. I fell in love with that kid right then and there. Because isn't that just how it is sometimes? We lose all our strength just getting up there, so all that is left to us is to throw sand with big smiles on our faces, thereby brightening the lives of strangers (mayhap friends yet unknown) who're passing by.

:o)