01 September 2012

in a day

Skinned knee and a bug in my tea. Proof of living. I wouldn't have it another way. The bug came from the air, and the knee from playing with children.

Balloons filled with lung air plus a little crowd of two- to ten-year-olds. Entertaining to watch, but desperately fun to be in. To join however, one must be willing to dive and roll, to frolic and belly laugh.

It cultivates compassion as well. I so often forget how much skinned knees hurt and so I brush tears off of tiny cheeks without a second thought, quick to become impatient two minutes later when the tears are still falling. But with the skin on my own knee ripped to shreds, I vividly remember the hydrogen peroxide stinging and the comfort of a kiss on my cheek even after it wasn't supposed to hurt anymore.

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