I went to a park near my house yesterday evening. It was a cool night, with a gentle breeze and a lovely sunset. It was the kind of night where it’s just nice to be outside.
When I arrived at the park, something just off the playground caught my attention. As I stepped closer, I realized it was a stick, painted red and blue and rammed into the dirt.
I was immediately impressed by this. Presumably some child had spent the afternoon creating and playing with the stick. At some point in that playing, the stick “needed” to be shoved into ground. It was suddenly abandoned when the child’s mother, or perhaps a passing ice cream truck, called to the child — it was time to leave. In the distraction of leaving, the painted stick was left behind.
A painted stick. So simple. Yet so imaginative. I wonder what game the child had played with it.
