Thunderous pounding of footsteps. The rapid onslaught of small voices- and laughter. Real, from the soul, deep belly laughter. Followed up by rapid-fire talk that sounds like chip monks. Kids drawn together like magnets. A trail of coats and shoes, and whatever else they dropped, lay like rocks across a creek behind them; too excited for the organizing or the putting away of things because there is adventures to be had, damn it. No time for such petty chores, there is work to be done in the way of merriment and imagination.
It you’re lucky, you know what I’m talking about. Family gatherings – or gatherings with whomever really. For us, this is often the scene at our gym. I wonder sometimes if they don’t enjoy being there a little more than we do. They can be a lump on a log, almost lifeless, worn out from school and bored with the recent adulating that’s been happening, until another hobbiteer comes through the door to help them start their next unexpected journey. Then it’s like seeing two people who haven’t seen each other in ages. Humming bird like shoptalk in a language that we have lost somewhere along the way of growing older, quick exchanges of hand gestures, and before you know it they are off, and we adults are onto talking about jobs, hobbies, and life.
Gatherings like these have always are my favorite. Like minded people, coming up from the deep recesses of the world for a breath of fresh air. At the gym, it’s the quick minutes of socializing before and after the swole starts. Sometimes, it is one of the few times that we actually get an outing or a rare dinner gathering; the places where conversations fly around the room like paper airplanes carrying messages, small and large, from hobbiteers of all ages, conversations that change the world.
Good people, raising fantastical children; what could give you more hope than that.
Hard Times Make Hard People.
- January 17, 2018
- Ben Seims