Laughter, Magic, and Goldgreen Missings | Pinwheel Midcentury Modern Hanging Art Mobile by Mark Leary
On missing
“How can I miss something,” asked crow, “that I’ve only seen in my dreams?”
“The better question,” replied fox, “is how couldn’t you?”
Thoughts while making
I heard her laughter first. Softened as it echoed through fall leaves. Piles of decaying reds and orangebrowns, yellows and goldgreens sweetening the air.
I heard his laughter next. From deep in his chest, I could feel the light spark in his eyes, even though I couldn’t see him. His the sound of one experiencing joy for the first time, again and again.
Hers was last. Sweet and careful, comprehensive in how it filled the empty street. Her laughter a warm coat wrapping the treasured moment she tucked away in that tender, safe place mothers do.
Swing and a miss. Swing and a miss. Swing and a miss. Laughter.
The plastic yellow bat was oversized, almost comical; the little girl’s hands barely able to wrap around. The pure white ball, arcing slowly, from dad to daughter, dropping to the ground, scooped up by mom and back to dad again. Repeat.
Swing and a miss. Swing and a miss. Swing and a miss. Laughter.
He’d hold the big ball at her eye level, making sure she could see it before ever-so-gently pitching it the three to four feet between them. With curly blond hair in her eyes, the bat danced in the air – a wild swing – and a miss. And laughter.
I didn’t hear a single “ah, you almost got it.” I didn’t hear any hint of disappointment as she swung and missed. Nor did I hear any “you’ll get it next time.” Each seemed wholly present to - and satisfied with - what was.
And so I heard laughter. I saw smiles. I saw a small human and two adults creating magic together amongst piles of fall leaves on a Portland afternoon. And it was beautiful.
What magic will you (choose to) see today?