Like what we're meant to look at while resting on this bench on Toswill Reserve. But then this is from November and things might have changed; it's high time we resumed our "daily" walk.
It also reminds me of when we lived in the US when I was a kid. My parents love "views" and "scenery", and encouraged by the car culture, we often got in the car to look at something, anything, even after Dad came home from work, or even after dinner some days. Except for the dead of the winter in Minneapolis. Things improved dramatically when we moved to Tucson the last year; we were off at least a couple of times a week, and further afield on weekends.
Dad in particular had this sweeping hand motion, while exclaiming, "Look at this View, Daughter!!" expecting similar reaction from me. I was the only kid then, aged 5-6 that academic year; Dad was a research fellow. You see, I knew what a mountain/river/lake/tree/bird/sunset was, but I didn't know what a "view" was. I would have stared at a rock if he just said "rock", (because there were a lot of them in and around Arizona,) but no, he insisted I love the "view" as much as he did. So for three years, my eyes followed the line his hand made, and emitted a breathless, "Yeah..." in my quiet voice, praying there was enough awe and reverence in the way I said it. And hoped he won't ask questions about that particular "view" later; my parents were both teachers, and they liked to ask questions to stimulate my intellectual development.
Dad in particular had this sweeping hand motion, while exclaiming, "Look at this View, Daughter!!" expecting similar reaction from me. I was the only kid then, aged 5-6 that academic year; Dad was a research fellow. You see, I knew what a mountain/river/lake/tree/bird/sunset was, but I didn't know what a "view" was. I would have stared at a rock if he just said "rock", (because there were a lot of them in and around Arizona,) but no, he insisted I love the "view" as much as he did. So for three years, my eyes followed the line his hand made, and emitted a breathless, "Yeah..." in my quiet voice, praying there was enough awe and reverence in the way I said it. And hoped he won't ask questions about that particular "view" later; my parents were both teachers, and they liked to ask questions to stimulate my intellectual development.
Ah, the things kids do for parents.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Thanks for taking your time to comment! If you have trouble seeing word verification, you can get another one by clicking little circle. Make sure you separate two words with space. We also welcome for any comment on our facebook page.
We have reserve a rights to remove comments include link to ads and spam without any notice.