To the Children

Yesterday, I passed a young man, probably 10 years old, on my ride. As we made eye contact he gave me a smile and a thumbs up sign. A simple act, yet the energy and joy such an act gives is hard to describe.

I had a similar encounter this past spring, which lasted all of about 5 seconds but at the time, and still today, seems more like 30. I came to a stop as a school bus was unloading it's precious cargo. The sky was crystal clear blue and the temps were in the mid-70s. About as perfect a day to ride as there is. As the children crossed in front of me, a young girl, she must have been 7 or 8 years old, bookbag over shoulder, stopped right beside me.

My first jaded thought was I don't want to be seen "in conversation" with such a child or that she was going to have some "smart*$#" comment to make (happens more than you would think). Men in lyrca wearing a funny helmet and shaved legs tend to be a magnet for verbal abuse--lol.

Instead, with her long brown hair and big bright eyes--at that age where the eyes seem out of proportion to the rest of the body--she tilted her head up and with the biggest, most genuine smile, blurted out, "What a great day for a bike ride."

She paused for just a second, her eyes locked on mine, waiting for my reaction. I was caught so off guard with the wonderful simplicity and pure authenticity of her comment, I could only mumble something to the effect that it was.

Seemingly pleased to have her undeniable insight acknowledged, she skipped off home, and I could only think she was rushing to her bike on such a gorgeous day to share the wonder.

These experiences, in contrast, bring forth two other remembrances. A few years ago I read a passage, most certainly apocryphal, but nonetheless I've never been able to get the simple idea out of my head, on the assassination of Gandhi. The story goes that when he was shot, the last word he uttered was "love." The commentary: the only thing that can come out of you is what is inside of you--and all Gandhi had inside was love, thus even to his assassin, with his last breath, there was nothing but love.

The second remembrance is from many years ago. I was having lunch with my mentor and he made the comment that people are generally not happy when you succeed. The thought had honestly never occurred to me that those around me would not be genuinely happy for me whenever I accomplished something. I'm sad to say, his comment has proven right more often than not, and when I have good fortune I've learned to be careful with sharing it for fear of stirring the muck of resentment, envy or whatever else success tends to stir in others.

Both these stories remind me of the joy and innocence of childhood. The joy of a thumbs up or a simple exclamation of goodness without anything else attached to it. Just pure happiness and joy uttered from an unfiltered heart. God bless the children.