A Moment at a Fountain

I wrote this last spring, on one of the bright March days just before Easter. I was outside the mall waiting to meet a friend for dinner and watching the people around me. For some reason I remembered it today and since I am not writing anything original I decided I'd post it belatedly:

It seemed like a good idea – I hadn’t been productive at the coffee shop. I needed a change of scene. And I could work anywhere. So I drove down early and ran my errands at the mall and then settled down against the wall in the corner of the courtyard to study. Most days it would have been a perfect corner to study. But today is not most days. It is just warm enough to make me drowsy and just cool enough to keep me interested in my surroundings.

There is a little boy - perhaps seven or eight years old playing near the fountain in the middle of the courtyard. He is alone, but he chatters constantly to himself, and grins as the breeze blows the spray from the fountain into his face. He is not lonely.

On the other side of the fountain a woman sits reading a book. She has a baby in a stroller that seems to be asleep (the baby, that is, not the stroller). She looks dignified and content.

A young couple walk through, fingers entwined. They have the awkward solemn expression that seems a necessary part of a highschool relationship – as though they’re determined to show the world that they are old enough to be dating. They kiss. But it is a serious kiss. There is no laughter in it – and no love either, I think.

Then another couple enters the courtyard. They aren’t much older – perhaps in the first couple years of college. She has thickly curling dark hair and a pleasantly curvy figure. He still looks most like a boy, but there is a gracious ease to his smile that makes his face manly and attractive. In contrast to the forced intimacy of the younger couple, these two don’t even touch – but they walk side by side, faces turned toward each other, shy, perhaps, but eager and not uncomfortable. They laugh and smile and seem glad to be together. I watch them until they round the corner out of sight with a smile.

And so they come and go past my little corner. Each person has a story that could be told. . . and I long to be able to tell the stories.