You So Happy

You giggle like a merry child when soap bubbles brush against your cheeks. You look up at the sky—so grey and ominous—and smile as if it were the most awe-inspiring sight you’d ever seen. Your conversations are full of rapture, your eyes full of dreams.

It isn’t that you are particularly young—at least not the young and oblivious they talk about in classic books. If I were to hazard a guess, I’d say you were old enough to have experienced loss—of friends and friendship, ambitions, perhaps a parent. Your fluffy yellow sweater with the polar bear imprint doesn’t fit you anymore. I can’t believe that you escape ubiquitous villains in daily life—a tyrant boss, an obsessive ex-lover, or at least a street that gets jam-packed with traffic exactly when you’re in a rush.

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A Moo for my thoughts…

Moo!

There must be something delightful about sitting by the road, munching last night’s dinner yet another time. The contented look on the faces of cows will vouch for this assumption. There were several of them in our courtyard this morning, enjoying the September sun. There was a Mamma cow and a Daddy cow and a Baby one who made mincemeat of the little weedy plants on the pavement. There were some aunts and uncles too, presumably left loose by their purveyor, who didn’t seem to mind the stench from the wall-turned-lavatory in the background. Most didn’t even bother with the itch that hovering flies caused. They merely waited for the nuisances to buzz off on their own. Such simple and patient creatures, cows are.