What if I was water?
You’d never be thirsty? We were at the town beach/lake today, it was late in the afternoon. The gnats had hatched and filled the sky with their tiny bodies. There were millions. We took a short walk around the lake and tried to avoid eating them and getting them in our eyes. Jack spotted a small stream and the sign next to it said “Runs directly into Long Island Sound”.
Jack: That’s far away.
Jack: I think I’d like to be water.
He spoke and watched the tiny rivulets curl around the rocks and boulders under the small arched bridge.
Jack: I mean, you would never get hurt EVER if you crashed into a rock! (spoken like a boy fated to a lifetime of scrapes and bruises.) Water is … nothing.
me: You’d be very wet.
Jack: But you wouldn’t care because you wouldn’t be anything.
me: Water is something. You can hold it.
Jack: But it doesn’t think about anything. It just runs.
me: That’s all it’s supposed to do.
Jack: I don’t want to be water then.
He tore off back to the beach for one final digfest. We created moats and roads and carried bucketfuls of water back to his creation. We spent some time at the playground as the sun sank behind the tall trees. Some of the trees had splotches of red and orange. Fall is announcing itself for sure.