The recreation center has tiny crap crammed in plastic containers and they cost a quarter but they make Finn beam

by Amy Turn Sharp


It's just a quarter.
So I give it to him and he places it in the silver slot and cranks with the strength of an ox and a little perfect squeal comes out of his body and he jumps a bit as the small plastic container bumps up against the door. He retrieves the tiny capsule and pops the top to find a wee martian made from unknown origin, but it is his and he has found the way to make time stop for a moment.
He skips around and sings my praises and the sun shines all around him.
Little vending machines. Little bubble gum machines.
I hope they never disappear.
(Like my kids will never know a phone booth)
How odd.
It really is the little things.
I just wish my crammed full brain could recognize these moments as they happen and not hours later. I wish I could pause life sometimes.
Must live in the moment.
Must live in the moment.
Must live in the moment.