It’s easy to see the magic in a beautiful day - the color of the blue sky with brush strokes of white wispy clouds, the way the sun’s light enhances every color from the lush green grass to the color of the flowers swaying in the breeze. And in the setting of a beautiful park with a vast, tree-filled landscape and crystal pond in the center, I could very well call this my magic moment 2. But something in the middle of the park tugged at my heart and will stay with me for a long time.
A little boy, no older than 3, sat on a child-size rock next to the pond. He was alone. His mother and brother were at the playground a few yards away. His body was unusually relaxed for a 3 year old and his gaze was intently fixed on a group of ducks in the middle of the pond. The ducks swam slowly and smoothly from one end of the pond to the other and the little boys’ head followed in correlating motion. His hands were folded neatly in his lap and occasionally, he raised a hand to point at a duck as its’ wings flapped and splashed in the water. He was pointing out the spectacle to no one in particular. The setting was reminiscent of my grandpa-in-law on a summer Texas afternoon. He sits in a lawn chair next to his pond with a bucket of food and throws handfuls to the goldfish and turtles swimming through the murky water. I envisioned the little boy in a straw hat and overalls. He sat perfectly content with nowhere to be.
The little boy’s brother yelled for him to come play on the slide. He responded softly without diverting his glance from the magical creatures for even a moment, “I’m watching the ducks.” His voice was the heart-melting, high pitch tone of a child and his “s” was a “th.” He continued to watch for a long time, oblivious to the other rowdy children playing tag and chasing bugs.
I smiled and could not take my eyes off the little boy who could not take his eyes off the ducks.