Yesterday at another graduation party, I was engaging in some innocent people-watching. A kid of maybe 8 or 9, evidently tired of the looping slideshow of gap-toothed school pictures (classic!), was entertaining himself with a ping pong table in the corner. He tried, with limited success, to play off the wall a la Forrest Gump. I was impressed by his patience - chasing after the ball after every attempt.
Yet again he gave a truncated attempt at a serve. The ping-pong ball dribbled across the table until it hit the net. Then, however, rather than rebounding toward the kid or spinning off in some other odd direction, the ball came to a rest. Directly on top of the ping pong net. Whether by some miracle of spin or the nature of the dilapidated table, the little white sphere landed and perched on the net like a cat on a fence - self-satisfied and miraculous. The kid just stopped and stared waiting for the miracle to end with a teeter and a soft plick.
But it didn't fall. The kid began to carefully circled the table, afraid to breathe. He cast his eyes around the room, maybe looking for his mom, or a buddy, or anyone who could bear witness to this miniature act of God. I myself was on the point of shaking my husband out of his conversation so he could see it, but I didn't - I was afraid that breaking my gaze would end the magic. I was staring at him so intently that I expected him to notice me - for him to realize that he had a co-conspirator - a stranger across the room.
He didn't notice me. After a moment's hesitation the kid tapped the ball off the net with the corner of his paddle and went back to his game. After all, the momentary miracle eventually started cutting in on his fun time.
I once again pretended to be involved in the conversation my husband was carrying.
Comments (2)
that's so cool.
AGREED!!! We've got a pool too, so we should have you over when it is hot!