I was in the kitchen baking this morning. There is always something therapeutic about baking on a dull, grey Saturday with nothing pressing to do. The smell of freshly-baked goods seems to lighten the gloom and make everything more cheerful.
As I was going about my tasks, I espied movement in the central courtyard in back of my apartment. Opening the window, I saw a little boy riding his bike. It was raining; not hard, but a slow, steady rain that lasts hours. But he was completely oblivious. Round and around he went, talking to himself in Danish the whole while. I was actually glad I couldn’t understand him as it prevented me from intruding into his own private little world, probably filled with pirates and dragons, or football players or something else which captivates the imagination at that age.
For the next hour, I had the best companion one could ever ask for. Round and around he went, utterly content despite the rain and narrow confines of the courtyard. I couldn’t help but think that this is what childhood should be like and had flashbacks to images of a little boy riding his bike for hours around a pole in rural Canada some twenty five years ago.
I hope sometime in the next few weeks or months, the two of us can enjoy the same experience all over again. And for some reason, the cookies tasted better today then they have in a long time…