As the sun peeked out from behind old clouds, the kids squirmed to play outside. For too many days, the rain had kept them sequestered — bored but safe and dry.
The lonely backyard beckoned my children. So I slid the heavy glass door wide. The sunshine meant playtime. Finally. In fresh air. Under a blue swept sky.
I continued to clean while I listened to my boy and girl chirp and squeal, their laughter warming me right.
No computer games today. No Nintendo. No Wii.
Just dewy grass and bouncy balls. The way play was meant to be.
The sounds of happy floated high. Until the doorbell rang . . . with my new neighbor standing grim, letting me know that my kids had been . . . throwing our kumquats over the fence, landing in her pool.
I called their names. And asked them questions.
Sure enough. They created a game called Who Can Throw the Highest?
The fruit just disappeared they said. They didn’t know where the yellows balls of mush had fallen. (They also never bothered to find out.)
And isn’t that just like us all?
When hanging ripe from green limbs, presenting all sorts of happy opportunity, we find delirious ways to make up fun. Never paying any mind to the outcome.
Yet, this same juicy opportunity presented a new one. An apt apology. And a sincere request for permission to clean our mess. The opportunity to forge a connection next door. In ways I had never thought of before.
Has an unlikely opportunity ever brought a new encounter with a neighbor?
QUICK UPDATE: I just learned that the fruit tree in my backyard is actually
a loquat, not a kumquat. Who knew? (I am seriously fruit-and-vegetable challenged!)
Linking today with Lisa-Jo, taking five minutes to write about opportunity.