One of the games I liked when I was in elementary school was Red Light Green Light. In case you were never initiated let me explain. One person stands at the far end of the yard with their back to the others, who are in a line forty feet away. That child says "Green light" which frees the others to run toward the finish. But suddenly the child who is It will spin around and yell "Red light!" If he or she sees anyone in motion when the light is red they are sent back to the beginning. The kid who makes it all the way without being caught moving wins. Which merely means it is your turn to be It.

 

The reality is, that the game is about playing. Being It or being Not It are merely variations to keep it interesting. Neither is inherently better. 

 

For graduation there was a parade. We joined a jubilant line of cars filled with the seniors and their families. Some people decorated their cars with balloons and signs, others hooted and hollered. Along both sides of the road were friends who stood waiting for the chance to cheer. Some of them had balloons and signs as well. 

 

A friend was ruminating on his thoughts while driving. 

 

"I used to think that green lights are good, and red lights are bad. I was in an incessant rush to get where I was going, and anything that slowed me down was frustrating. But lately I am enjoying the red lights too. They are a chance to look around. Today I noticed the whorl of leaves, whose mothers forgot to tell them not to skip in the street, and a red headed girl walking with her brother. She could easily capture the heart of Charlie Brown without trying. When the light is green I miss those details."

 

One time John and I were going out to dinner with friends. They offered to drive. All four of us were in a chatty mood, and eager to catch up. The conversation never lagged.

 

The traffic was especially congested that evening as we headed to the restaurant, and our friend began to see it as his fault. 

 

"I'm sorry it's taking so long," he shook his head. But I was not annoyed. We were already together, whether in the car or around a table. 

 

Maybe life is being present to where we are, and not merely a series of interruptions. Perhaps we are all just part of the parade.