March 14, 2011

Why the sky is blue

Franziska is in Utrecht with a friend. I'm outside with Sam, planting the hedera climbing plants against our garden's fence. Warm rays of sunlight tempt me to take off my coat, to make the work more practical. I hold a cup with little steel hooks in my hand.

"Sam, can you hand me the hammer?" I say.
"Hammer. Hammer!" he says.
"It's lovely weather, isn't it?" I say.
"Hammer!" he says.

I take one of the hooks and lead the plant's tranche through it so it will grow in the right direction.

"Can you hand me another hook?" I say.
"Hammer!" he says, while giving me a handful of hooks.
"Thank you sweety." I say.

We work together for over an hour, and all the winter's stress falls off my shoulders. I dig the last hole for the last plant.

"Shovel." he says.

Together we carefully water the new plants.

"Papa?" he says.
"Yes?" I say.
"Papa." he says.

We go inside. Papa, I think.
Papa. That's me.
It's really me.


From day to day time doesn't change anything.
Take a handful of days and still nothing has changed.
Then take a couple of those handfuls and suddenly everything is different.
How does this happen? Time can be a fantastic thing.

I don't have a lot to say today.

I just wanted to wish you a good day.
A happy springtime.
A lovely year.

A wonderful life.

1 comment:

Dimitra said...

Oh Dennis. Perhaps it is the people who know how to love the life they are given that make the sky blue.