Flash of Perception / The 500-Word Project: Week 10
2013
“What’s this, Mama?” My two-year-old daughter kneels and points at the base of a tree, her eyes intent and curious.
It’s an overcast autumn morning soon after a rain. The hollows in the flagstones lining the wide walkway into the park stand pooled with water, and fallen leaves litter the whole area. A few sparrows hop and peck a short distance away, paying us no mind.
I crouch next to her and look more closely. “It’s moss,” I say. “See how it’s nestled in here all snug on the tree?”
“Why?” she asks.
“I’m not sure, actually. I guess it makes a good home for the moss, and maybe it’s good for the tree too,” I say.
She reaches out a finger and touches it, tentatively at first, ready to pull away at any second. Instead she gasps with delight. “It’s soft,” she says. “And wet.”
“Yeah, it is, huh? You can touch it as much as you want if you’re gentle.”
Her three-year-old brother runs up behind us, holding a stick in one hand and several yellow leaves in the other. “What are you guys looking at?” he asks.
I wait for her to answer him but her attention is entirely focused on the moss; she doesn’t even seem to notice he’s there. She sits back on her heels now, studying it.
“See this moss here?” I say, pointing. “We’re just exploring it a bit.”
He crouches beside his sister, the sleeves of their coats touching. I watch them for a moment, their eyes open wide with interest. An unusual quiet settles over the whole area.
He tilts his head to the side and bends low, his face close to the moss. “It’s really bumpy,” he says. “Like grass, but smaller.”
Mimicking him, she tilts and bends to the opposite side. She reaches out her hand again, palm flat this time, and begins to stroke it gently, lovingly, as if it’s a small animal. He does the same, and a shiver of enjoyment runs visibly through his body. They smile at each other and start to laugh, taking turns stroking it and sitting back just to look at it.
“We could dig this up, Mama,” he says, “and take it home with us.”
“We could,” I say, “but see how it lives so closely with the tree? We wouldn’t want to hurt the moss or the tree by trying to dig it up, right?”
He shakes his head in agreement. Then his face brightens. “We can come back and visit it!”
“Sure we can,” I say. “Whenever you want. It might look different each time, too. We could watch for its changes.”
She’s been quiet a long time, ruminating. “I wanna take a picture of it,” she says suddenly.
“Me too! Me too!” he says, jumping up and down.
I take out my phone and we huddle in close around the bright screen, each of them taking dozens of blurry but fond pictures of their newest happy discovery.
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Seeing is Love | Paige Baldwin
[...] you hang out with young children, you can watch them investigate their own worlds with fathomless inquisitiveness. Things adults…
Sweet, Paige. Through your words I felt as though I could actually see the moss, see your kids ‘petting’ the moss and how captivated they were by their new discovery.
Thanks, Julie. I definitely see differently when they’re with me. There’s nothing like witnessing their boundless curiosity to awaken my own.
Gorgeous. Such a beautiful moment, shared
Lovely, Paige. An important moment, beautifully captured
Love it! Moss has always appealed to me on some deep level too. Nothing like a big sprawling rock covered with moss and lichen!
Thanks, everyone!
Yes, I know what you mean, RJH. It was so sweet to watch them exploring and enjoying it.
loved this one paige, not just because i experience these moments every day, all day. so beautifully captured. you have to admire the innate love of nature in young children. admire and nurture, before it slips away. and i am becoming inspired by your project. i need to write. but my problem is always, “write what?”