Sunday, 7 April 2013

Life is beautiful

Today I found beauty in most things that I saw. Making it one of those rare days, when all you want to do is smile.

It did not start out as such a golden day. In fact it looked rather grey when I reluctantly opened the curtains this morning. After much manipulating - I had to promise them all sorts of treats - the children agreed to come cycling with me. Of course it is bitterly cold and no matter which way we turn, we have to batle with the wind.
Then, after forty minutes or so of steady cycling, I suddenly notice that no one whines.  No cold hands, or feet, no thirst, no hunger pangs, no tiredness plague my children apparantly. Instead they are all smiles, both of them. My son is racing ahead, very able on his bike, which is rather surprising since he did not get much cycling practise in his life. My daughter more tentative, but still giving the whole cycling thing a really good go. She insisted from the start that she did not want her saddle raised, nor did she trust herself to change gears on the go, so that she, stuck in first gear, knees coming up to her chin, has to give it her all to keep up with her brother. But she hangs in there. All eightteen kilometres of the touristy cycle route that I picked.
Chilled to the bone and tired with cycling, we decide to go for one last swim in the subtropical pool the children have come to love so much. Once comfortably installed at a table, the children on yet another slide adventure, I let my eyes wander.
Where on earlier visits to 'Aqua Mundo', I did not notice much besides loads of rather overweight half naked bodies and way too many tattoos, this time I saw the most touching scenes. Mothers, being hugged by teenage sons twice their lenght, fathers cradling their baby sons and daughters. A guy, his long hair in a pony tail, a falcon tattood on his shoulder blade, entertaining his five (!) daughters with enviable ease. And best of all, a pimple-faced boy of about fifteen, lifting his grandma in the air and putting her gently down on a big rubber float. He pushes her slowly around the pool. After a first few frightened minutes, grandma relaxes, leans back and closes her eyes. I almost burst into tears.
All of a sudden I feel guilty idling my time away, flicking through a magazine that does not really interest me, while I can also play with my two children. I do just that. We play piggy in the middle for hours on end, slide holes in our swimming costumes, eat ice cream and even brave the Turbo Twister together. I have not been this relaxed in ages. Hurray for Centre Parcs!