“Crocodile, crocodile, can we cross the river?”
I was standing in the balcony and watching the sun go down when I got distracted by a bunch of kids playing a game I used to play so often. I wasn’t that good at it, so there aren’t any outstanding memories where I scored a hat-trick at crossing the ‘river’ without getting caught by the ‘crocodile’ aka a friend who was anyway a better runner than me.
It was quiet, peaceful and an airplane was just crossing the sky leaving its imprint on the ones who were looking up at it through their windows, tiny time frames when work or life seemed less important and the slow trail of a plane more fascinating.
Two girls and a guy stood behind a line. Their task was to get to other side without being caught by the ‘crocodile’ standing in the middle. As the youngest safely made it to the other side, a guy and a girl were left behind. There strategy was to distract the ‘crocodile’ and make a dash to the other side.
It was my day off from work, so unlike other days, I had a lot of time to linger around and smell the roses. Time to watch the sunset, kids play in the park, have a cup of tea while watching the wind carry the secrets from near and afar. In other words, time to truly live my life.
The boy made it to the other side, leaving the girl behind, who shifted nervously from one foot to another. It’s kind of scary being left behind. I am the oldest at work, from the point of view of experience. Everybody who had joined before me have either quit to join other places or relocated. Since I am the last person standing, I many a times feel uneasy and to be honest, stuck — why couldn’t I be the one who left before everybody else?
The boy came back, he tried to help her out and get her, too, to the other side. In his heroic attempt, he got caught and was out of the game.
“You got caught, but you helped me,” said the little one, who was sporting a perfect bob that I had always wanted growing up. “Isn’t that the best thing?”
Isn’t that the best thing?