Thursday, January 15, 2009


Come In

The road didn’t like the footpath too much. So it sulked till it changed colour. And like all things that sulked for too long, the road changed colour. It turned a murky, blacky grey that no one wanted to say hello to. The footpath, oblivious to the road’s dislike, remained happy and filled with people. Winding along the city, stopping to smell the flowers, and breaking into giggles at the sight of an overflowing gutter. The road saw how happy the footpath was and threw gravel and slush in her face at every given opportunity. She ignored it, saying ‘Oh, he’s just a road, he must be angry with all the work he has to constantly do.’ But the more she ignored him the more angry he became. He hurled vehicles off him and onto her. Cyclists tumbled and bruised an elbow on her. And sometimes, even a cow tripped and sought the refuge of the safe footpath. So the footpath cried into the trees that lined her, and asked them what she should do. “Be wise,” said the Pepul tree to the footpath, “When you feel the road beginning to hurt you, run into a house. The people there will take care of you.” And fromt that day on whenever a gate is opened, the footpath goes in just a little bit. Just enough to get the fear of the road out of her. So when this gate opens, let it remain open for a wee bit longer?

(On the outside of the gate at the First Steps kindergarten)

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