Dear Friends,
Would you agree with, or dismiss my thoughts here?
Once more, I have made a completely unexpected observation.
This morning, intending to quickly do some hedge pruning before
getting off to the grocery, I set up my step ladder along the hedge
that seperates my flat from a neighbor's. As I stepped up to begin
trimming, I heard the sound of the young children next door. The
family had recently purchased them a tram-pou-line (how American!) and
their children, two small boys and two small girls, had taken to it
with gusto.
Now the hedge is fairly tall, but not particularly thick, and it is
little effort to spy through. So I did. As expected, I spotted the
four children, giggling as they sailed up through the air and then
down again, their shirts and dungarees flapping.
What I did not expect to see was a fifth child take flight with them
... a brown boy of raven hair, a bit chubby about the tummy, perhaps
seven or eight years old, probably of Indian extraction. What was
most notable was his attire. The brave lad (for morning can put the
chill on here) wore only a pair of blue rayon soccer shorts ... and
they were so large that when he leaped up, they fluttered about him
like a parachute.
And when he came down and rebounded on the trampouline, the shorts
dropped to his hips, and then again rebounding, they dropped to his
thighs, and then thrice, they dropped right to his ankles.
And he hadn't a stitch on beneath them.
And then, giggling along with the other younger children, he pulled
them up and repeated his acrobatics. Bounding, to the hips, bounding
twice, to the thighs, and again down to the ankles, where he very
nearly lost them. At one point, he left them round his ankles and
stopped jumping long enough to bend over and expose the nether regions
of his rear quarters to his delighted playmates. Cheeky! (no pun
intended). He clearly was enjoying this scandalous behaviour.
As were the neighbor's kids.
And ...
As was I, peering unseen through the hedge. I felt it a wonderfully
intimate moment, seeing this mischeivious imp in all his boyhood
beauty. My heart swelled and raced and I felt short of breath ... how
I desired to be closer to him! But it was impossible, of course, and
I finally forced myself, with quivering heart and trembling knees,
down the step ladder.
And I thought, "Why, God ... why do you torture me so? That you should
allow me to see such delectable boyhood yet again, and feel desperate
love (or at the very least lust) unrequitted yet again!"
And I determined, my heart still pounding as I drove to the grocery,
that it was a curse. A bloody curse!
Nevertheless, should I again hear them on the trampouline, I wouldn't
hesitate to climb up that step ladder.
Most Sincerely,
HMS Victor Victorian, NP-g18
God Save the Queen.
God Bless the Prince of Wales.
God Preserve the Windsors.
Rule Britannia!
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