Morning rituals with coffee, laundry, and gardening had me in reality
When a strong yet little voice of my two year old demands,”go for a jog?! Let’s go for a jog?! STROLLER?!” And off we go.
His contentment keeps him silent and I get to look at everyone’s beautiful gardens and guess who belongs to each.
The house bordered with neatly trimmed rose bushes must belong to a little old lady with permed white hair who prefers tea of over coffee and has nice sons who visit on Sunday’s.
The house with a variety of succulents, I imagine a couple in their late 60s awaiting retirement and longing for a home on an island they haven’t been to since their 20s.
Jogging past the groomed green lawn, clean with hedges and nothing more,
Hmmm maybe a young couple who bought their first home and is trying to have a baby when she’s fertile, otherwise they are just polite and lights are out by 9pm.
Yes I make judgements and will occasionally catch a grandmother out with her kitchen knife clearing away dandelion weeds and washing her trash can or some guy with a cigarette and coffee in his hands rushing off to work, where he times out the day by coffee and cigarette breaks and looks at his coworkers ass to pass the time.
Then my son finally speaks,”Go home? Hi mr bird! Hi mr bird. Hi clouds. Go home?”
And 30 minutes of seeing the world we come back and rest in front of our own garden where a young family with three kids live.
And do they believe in magic?
I dare you to watch life grow before your eyes and say you don’t.