Another entry in Faye Rosehart's "devotional"...
I'm sitting on a park bench, reading a book while the butterflies hover over a stalk of hollyhocks and then flutter to the daylilies bending on their stems. I've come to this bench as I often do on a Saturday to escape the phone and the computer and the bills that need to be paid. I even make a point of not taking a watch. It's my sort of "staycation" -- a way of getting away without going far at all.
All of a sudden my calm is interrupted by a boy, about three years old, who dashes along the path and then ducks behind a hedge.
"I'm hiding!" he calls to his mother, who's pushing an empty stroller along the path behind him.
"You can't see me! I'm imbizabul!" he yells, his blond cowlick rising over the shrubbery like a duck's tail.
Of course she can see him and so can I. The boy pops up from behind the hedge and greets his mother in a fit of giggles.
"You found me!" he exclaims in pitch high enough to break my reading glasses.
"I did!" she says, giving him a hug.
I watch them go and then get up from my bench, thinking, I'm glad I don't have any little brats to waste my atheistic time. I wonder how those two would like it if I went to their home and starting making a bunch of racket. Something always seems to break into my quite moments and mess up my day. I'm sick of these stupid birds singing around me as well!
Sometimes I wish I were in solitary confinement.
So, remember readers...if your day is interrupted by the noise of laughing morons or singing beasts, fire a couple of shots into the air and tell them to get lost!