Yesterday,
I did a street run up in our neighborhood that ended just as it was getting
dark. Felt great to get out and run, the
cool air, refreshing, each stride I took, invigorating.
Just
as I was rounding a corner on a windy mountain road about three quarters of a
mile from our house, I noticed two young boys exiting one of the houses. They looked to be about six and eight. No parents were with them as they headed
towards the street. One was clutching a
new Christmas toy. No doubt it was his
most treasured.
As
the boys and I got closer to one another, curiosity got the better of me and I
took a closer look at the gift he had clutched in his arms. It was an authentic boomerang.
Hmmm….
I
looked towards the house and still saw no adults.
Hmmm….
The
boys, sporting devilish grins on their faces, headed into the street, carefully
navigating between the parked cars. My
eyes scanned each car, noting how none had any noticeable dings or dents.
That might change as soon
as the boys start throwing the boomerang….
I
continued on my run, passing the boys and leaving them to their fun. A few moments later, I heard the distinct
sound of the boomerang ping off the exterior of one of the parked cars, the
boys giggling in the background.
Visions
of years past when my oldest son was given an authentic boomerang from his
visiting Australian friends flashed through my mind. A smile played at my lips when I recalled how
randomly that boomerang had flown. This
way and that, with little control, it crashed into any and everything that was
nearby. And, just as I was hearing the
little boys do from behind me, I remembered the squeals of delight my own son
had uttered as he threw and watched his boomerang sail through the air over and
over again.
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