Someone around the corner has created a kind of petting zoo.
Under a garden hedge and behind the iron rails of their front fence there were at first only two guinea pigs. The garden is waist high to passers-by who generally stop to say hello, or offer a handful of torn grass.
Some days on the way back from the gym in the morning we see three or four schoolkids, skinny in their uniforms, leaning in and getting their fix.
Then suddenly there were three guinea pigs and a grey rabbit. There were colourful new tubes for them to shelter in and explore. Now there are four guinea pigs and two rabbits.
One day soon I expect to see a giraffe grazing on the canopy of frangipani flowers high overhead. A hippopotamus in the birdbath. It’s a children’s book coming to life, and I love it.
Robinson and I cross the road to join in now.
I can’t tell any more if time is going fast or slow. Those schoolkids sure grow fast but in their kid time it seems to take forever, as I recall. It also lasts forever. Except for their parents, who weep in astonishment on Day One of primary school or university.
Already!? How did that happen?
Simple. We operate on different clocks.
Now Facebook reminds me each morning what happened in my life four years ago, or one year ago, or seven years ago. No matter which random photograph they revive it feels to me like it was last week. At this rate I’ll be 90 soon and only feel like a year has passed, when in fact it will have been my whole life.
Our kitten reminds me to enjoy each day as it comes and simply appreciate what it offers. Live in the moment. Everything is amazing! Then if you’re a kitten you break it, and move on. Tomorrow is a lovely day.
But part of me longs for those lazy, hazy days of a summer that never ended – that doesn’t end – wet as a seal in the surf or under the sprinkler on a squealing green lawn.