She looked up at him and smiled. Red hair falling into her face and without breaking eye contact, she pushed it back. I saw her mouth move and assumed she thanked him. Nothing was unusual about the scene. But the look on his face made watching it all the more worthwhile. His smile shone with happiness. And it seemed to me that watching a harmless, little transaction made the entire library illuminate with power.
I remained sitting inconspicuously in my chair until he had sat down again. Grinning to myself, I saw her return to her book with a smile hidden in her eyes. He turned to his friends, face red with joy, and they too knew that this was something good. She stealthily looked at them. One of his friends caught her and nodded slightly. I looked on as a small blush heated her cheeks.
Small moments make up a day. Each moment contributes to who we are. All the side-glances, the smiles, the thank you's make this moment the present. However, a person's understanding is what turns those moments into reality. Our first moments, the first time we understand something or know something, those are what change any ordinary experience into an impenetrable memory. A single tear has the power to turn drought into life. Just by giving a little water a well can be formed. The salt has no matter; salt will season whatever it can. It's what is underneath the salt that creates drastic waves within each of our own personal worlds. However, what people often forget is that those waves spread.
She throws back her head in fits of laughter at something her friend says. Her eyes sparkle and I can see him look at her with wonder on his face. He smiles at her hysterics. Around his eye I can detect a faint hint of wrinkles from years of smiling. Behind him his friends grin. But he takes no heed. His eyes remained glued to her smile, her eyes. I, too, watch her red headed girl in wonder.
This is just a moment in a day. Just a small interaction. Yet, as I look around I know I am not the only one watching. Teachers and students alike watch these children. And on nearly all faces genuine comfort rests. This comfort is not a product of the dusty bookshelves or of the hard, wooden chairs but of the clear bond the girl and boy possess. Despite her tiring dislike and his pledge to trouble making, the two of them create the moment. They make it something we all watch.
Because as slight as it is, it's potent and it's real. So I watch these children, too. Because where the two of them may only be able to feel confusion and feigned annoyance, there is only one emotion the entire the people around them can feel. Love. It binds them. And enthralls us all. We look at them and know of their qualms. They are open books, filled with innocence and youth, laughter and creativity.
It saddens me because I know the legacy we will leave to them will be beyond our control. As an adult, but really only a child at heart, I know that the world gets meaner every day. One day, I will die and when I live others live on stronger then I will ever be. Never can I effectively stop all the cruelty and live for them. But if I could, I would freeze time right now. If I could, I would forever keep them young. Because they have made so many moments in my life worth living and all I can do is attempt to return the favor.