Stranger things.
Quite often I find myself hoping that the playground/lake/store/beach is not too crowded. I think that is a common hope among adults, but not really for kids. They just don't care and actually, I think that in general they prefer to be around new people, quickly making friends.
I wonder what causes us to change our minds about sharing space with strangers.
I've decided that the openness to interaction with other humans is a desirable trait, and thus I've been working to change my initial reaction when I come across full parking-lots, occupied benches, or any flood of pedestrians.
I already love big gatherings of family and friends. Maybe I can take a page from my children's play book and look at everyone as a potential friend.
(above: my lovely cousin Amanda and her darling, and quite daring son.)
Actually, walking up a GIANT hill with hoards of beach-goers was, I think, more pleasurable than going the hike alone. Each group sat at the top and looked out over the earth in triumph, having conquered a small bit of it. No body was really mingling per-say but the quiet comradery was quite pleasant.
(above: my cousin Ryan, the hill vanquisher.)
Speaking of comrades, I'll have you know that I am a firm believer in the closeness that can be produced through family crucibles of any sort. I won't wish the sort of intense sadness that binds relationships (death, illness, etc.) upon anyone. But climbing a hill together... that I hope for everyone.
We're all climbing hills, really. Financial. Emotional. Whatever. I am so glad for the closeness we feel these days as we work together.
Believe it or not, our youngest loved having sand poured on his head from his brother's boots. I'm pretty sure he was just thrilled to be the center of their attention for a while.
We ran down the hill, holding hands. We fell a lot. Iggy did a whole-head-plant like an ostrich, coming up with a mouth-full of sand. Instead of spitting it out, he just started chewing to swallow.
I'm not exactly sure what to say to wrap up my disjointed thoughts on strangers, triumphs, or sand.
Oh, I've got it. If I came across a stranger who had fallen into quick-sand, I would help them in a huge battle of strength and will to survive, and because of what we'd been through together, we would likely become friends.
I wonder what causes us to change our minds about sharing space with strangers.
I've decided that the openness to interaction with other humans is a desirable trait, and thus I've been working to change my initial reaction when I come across full parking-lots, occupied benches, or any flood of pedestrians.
I already love big gatherings of family and friends. Maybe I can take a page from my children's play book and look at everyone as a potential friend.
(above: my lovely cousin Amanda and her darling, and quite daring son.)
Actually, walking up a GIANT hill with hoards of beach-goers was, I think, more pleasurable than going the hike alone. Each group sat at the top and looked out over the earth in triumph, having conquered a small bit of it. No body was really mingling per-say but the quiet comradery was quite pleasant.
(above: my cousin Ryan, the hill vanquisher.)
Speaking of comrades, I'll have you know that I am a firm believer in the closeness that can be produced through family crucibles of any sort. I won't wish the sort of intense sadness that binds relationships (death, illness, etc.) upon anyone. But climbing a hill together... that I hope for everyone.
We're all climbing hills, really. Financial. Emotional. Whatever. I am so glad for the closeness we feel these days as we work together.
Believe it or not, our youngest loved having sand poured on his head from his brother's boots. I'm pretty sure he was just thrilled to be the center of their attention for a while.
We ran down the hill, holding hands. We fell a lot. Iggy did a whole-head-plant like an ostrich, coming up with a mouth-full of sand. Instead of spitting it out, he just started chewing to swallow.
I'm not exactly sure what to say to wrap up my disjointed thoughts on strangers, triumphs, or sand.
Oh, I've got it. If I came across a stranger who had fallen into quick-sand, I would help them in a huge battle of strength and will to survive, and because of what we'd been through together, we would likely become friends.
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