Under the Cottonwood

I took a walk around the pond and ended up standing under a tree, mesmerized by the fluff falling from the cottonwood above me. The sun beamed down between two apartment buildings ahead, and the plain of grass in front of me sparkled.

I heard the delicate voice of a little girl as she sang while riding her bike along the winding path in front of me. A smaller kiddo, much smaller, fell as he tried riding his scooter behind her. She kept going, following a man gently calling out to both of them as he walked ahead. 

I was worried that the small boy would cry, but he didn’t. He sat in the sparkling grass, fluff from the cottonwood floating around him, and he giggled. A sweet, quiet little burst of laughter. 

How wonderful to witness the formation of such sweet memories.