Babies and Children: Joy

When I was visiting my daughter and her family in Nova Scotia several years ago, we walked to a nearby park on a Sunday evening, for a "Music in the Park" series. It hadn't been well promoted, so very few people were there. The whole grassy park, which overlooks the low-tide mud flats, was home to maybe 20 people sitting in scattered groups. The music consisted of a local four-piece cover band.

 

Olivia, then four and a half, had brought with her a silk organza ribbon that I'd used to wrap her father's birthday gift the day before. It was pink, which suited her down to the ground. Her favorite color is "pinkandpurple." The ribbon was obviously meant for her.

 

When the music played, Olivia began running. She was barefoot. She held the ribbon in her right hand, her arm raised above her head. She ran so that she could make the ribbon stream behind her. She ran barefoot. She ran like the wind. She didn't stop. As she ran, she lifted and turned her head to watch the ribbon stream. She never stopped running.

 

Soon everyone in the park was watching her, but Olivia was just running, totally un-self-conscious. She was no longer Olivia, she was Child Running. She was a fairy sprite, blond curls bouncing behind her like the ribbon. She had become the verb "to run."

 

Olivia's feet didn't touch the ground. She looked like Snoopy doing that Dance of Joy that he performed when his supper dish was delivered. Olivia darted, always about three inches above the grass. She ran. Her ribbon flew behind her. She was Flying Child with Ribbon.

 

And when she finished, she somersaulted from where we were sitting to the farthest lamppost, which took 152 somersaults.

 

And then she came back to her ribbon and she flew again all over the park.

 

The band was forgettable. Olivia running with a ribbon is not.

 

 

Copyright 2008 Ann Tudor   

www.anntudor.ca
http://scenesfromthejourney.blogspot.com