Meet me at the Fountain

The fountain was located in the center of the small mountain village. It was encircled with shops and restaurants lining the outside parameter. Every thing faced the center of the town square where the fountain spouted in the warm afternoon sun. It was nearing evening and some of the cafe’s were busy serving red wine, huge kalamata olives and fresh aromatic breads.

A cluster of old men crowded a bench that wrapped around the fountain, leaning around to talk to each other and smoke their cigarettes. They glanced our way occasionally, blowing smoke as their minds wandered – most likely down a trail of memories. Earlier times when they were young and spry, when their minds had yet to forget a friends name or the day of the week or how they once had little ones splashing in the fountain water as their grandchildren did now.

People greeted one another, genuinely happy to be in each others company. Hugs and hugs and more hugs. We never wanted to leave. Where is the fountain in our lives, the one where family and friends hurry to gather at every chance they get? Why has this amazing sense of community and belonging failed to seed itself in our modern day lives?

I think we need to take a giant step back. What do we see?

Later,

Mary Ann

Similar Posts

  • Time

    Somehow, it’s June of 2013. And somehow an incredible amount of time has crept up, then shot on by like a bullet train. All along, I’ve been deceived, believing it’s never been anything more than an innocent little choo-choo. Where have the years gone? For some reason, I haven’t liked what I’ve been viewing in…

  • Old Dogs

    I’ve never gone long in this life without a dog. I’m one of those people. I love snuggling up on the couch with a big ol fur ball, walking for miles with someone who is wiling to keep going for as long as I like, and being loved unconditionally. The perks to dog ownership are…

  • Sunshine or Bust!

      A week ago, my husband and I, along with our son and daughter-in-law, were excitedly packing up to escape the glum commonly associated with a typical Seattle winter. We were going where sunshine was all but guaranteed, soft sandy beaches preheated and waiting just for us. As we boarded the plane, I took one…

  • The Girl She Was

    Mother is eighty-three now. She has spent the past thirteen years in a wheelchair, unable to read a book or speak her mind. Unable to be the girl she used to be. Jackie was a trouper when us kids were growing up. The mother of seven, a wife forever, an old fashioned homemaker.  She loved…

  • Wheather or Not

    It is, of course, unnecessary to point out that we are buried in snow, not only here in the Pacific Northwest, but apparently everywhere there’s a news station. So, while we’re drowning in the stuff, I’d like to point out the obvious, just for the sake of whining, and share a few facts I’ve never…

One Comment

Comments are closed.