On Pebbles and Streams

I always imagine myself sitting under a big tree with a huge umbrella of leaves shading me from the sun with a trickle of sunlight escaping here and there in between leaves and would form a tiny random spotlight on the ground where my knees are.

I like to imagine the soft breeze caressing my cheeks and playing with just a teeny tiny few strands of my hair. And there would be a stream right next to the tree. Far enough not to reach me but close enough that I can see each molecule of water racing by. Close enough that I was able to witness how the stream of water kiss the pebbles it pass by. No expectations, no demands. They both just savor the time they have, a moment at a time.

Can you hear the sound they make, those pebbles and stream? They’re like the tinkling of the thousand beads of crystal of an elegant chandelier. Except theirs is not the soprano sound but a tenor’s. 

I can see a snowcapped mountain at a far distance, with cumulus clouds merrily striding by. Is that a baby elephant I see flying on there on that blue sky?

A slightly stronger breeze put my reverence back to the book I am reading. The pages started flipping on its own and  I lost gripped of the spine. What page was I on again? Chapter 16, page 18 or was that 88? 

A small band of yellow maple leaves start rolling by my foot. One of them stumbled and fell flat, but went back up and soldiered on with the rest of the band. I love autumn. I love Spring too. I love the maple trees’ autumn leaves waving at me while I do my morning run. I love the ever shy and always smiling cherry blossoms when they blink their hellos at me while I walk through rows and rows of them. Both season are equally beautiful but autumn, autumn is different. It’s more dramatic. Its color matches the color of sunrise. 

I hear laughter and tiny feet crushing leaves on the ground. I don’t need to look up to know where those are coming from. I can hear them getting louder now. I can hear the sound of stream and pebbles kissing on my right and sound of tiny laughter and tiny footsteps on my left. I waited until suddenly tiny arms wrapped around my neck and waist and calling my name.

Mommy.

Music to my ears. More melodious than everything else I am hearing at the moment. Well, that, and my tiny humans' laughter. I kissed both their small flushed cheeks and stood up to join them. My book can wait.