An unguarded moment, a pond and a little boy

Just underneath the title of the blog, is a little fishpond.  If you rest your mouse pointer there for a second or two, you will see how little fishes congregate around it.  This virtual fishpond was placed there for a reason:  To remind me how one unguarded moment will never be forgotten. 

I often take Jonathan (aka Gogga) for walks in St.George’s Park.  Especially during Port Elizabeth’s muggy summer days, we love walking the park’s cool, shaded paths.  We touch the leaves and smell the flowers in that quiet trance one goes in when surrounded by nature.

Earlier this year on a particularly hot afternoon, we again sought refuge in St. Georges Park.  Gogga loves feeding the fish in the ponds.  So, the large fishpond near the Manville Theatre is destination one. 

Second destination:  the smaller fishpond at the newly renovated hothouse.  Gogga lies on his tummy on the edge of the pond and splashes in the water.  We sit down on the edge of the pond to give our dogs water.  I check the dogs’ collars to move on to our next adventure. 

Gogga runs around the pond to say goodbye to the fish.   I hear him splash his hands in the water.  Then I hear a “ghoomps”, like when a big stone is dropped into a rock pool.    

I turn around. 

Only the top of Gogga’s head is showing about the water.  Heart stops.  Go cold.  Run.   Jump-fall into the pond. 

I lift the little boy’s head above the waters edge.  He says:  “Water!”

We both sit in the pond for a minute or two; I don’t want him to think water is “bad”. 

We sit on the edge of the pond for a few minutes. He cries a little, but with little conviction. I’m weak with relief.

I take off his wet clothes.  He runs around like only a semi-naked nearly-2-year old can.  His freedom:  not understanding how badly this afternoon could have turned out.

I'm soaked.  My jeans are chafing, my shoes squelch, my T-shirt clings to me and my hair is wet and we still have to walk home.   

You know what?  I didn't mind.  I was so happy  - my Gogga was fine. 

And I was very glad no-one saw us sitting in a stinky fish pond in St. George’s Park on a muggy afternoon in Port Elizabeth.