Temperature in the 80's, it was a beautiful South Dakota day with wind strong enough to move a grown man. After "helping" M and E smooth sand and arrange concrete blocks to support their coming hot tub, I lay on the fantastic grass and just existed in the sunshine while they went to E's truck to pick up another block.
Then there was movement at the edge of the work area--a midsized beetle anxiously attempting to climb the hard plastic wall that separated the grass from the newly-laid sand. I watched, amused. What would she find when she made it across? A barren wasteland, nothing like the grass she imagined.
I pictured her life in three minutes when the boys returned with the block. Smack, settle, grind--bug in gravel, end of journey.
She was still throwing herself at the black plastic when I looked back at her. Then she changed tactics and ran along the edge of it, hoping for a break in the wall.
Why? You don't know what awaits you on the other side...
Oh, the irony... How many walls do I hurl myself against or race along the side of? Maybe the grass is greener on my side.
2 comments:
If we never did anything without knowing what was going to happen, we'd be mired in mediocrity. Sometimes we climb the walls not because we know that what's beyond is all that much better, but because it's just another step in improving the status quo.
Also, beetles are stupid.
HEY!
Okay--maybe I need to rework this. Perhaps a little background will suffice. I'd just gotten a "Hey--you're a 'the grass is greener' sort of person!" tossed at me the night before the bug incident. And the bug, all of a sudden, was _me_.
Some walls are worth going over. Some sidewalks are long, dry spells, but can be met with awesome vegetation on the other side. And sometimes, if you hurtle yourself over a wall, you find yourself drowing in a pool.
Synopsis: sometimes, it's good to not make it over a wall. Sometimes, you need to appreciate the grass you're in.
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