Imaginary fences

Monday afternoon, I stared out the backyard of my new home. It was anything but my old yard. It lacked colour. Used to be that I'd stare for hours at the bright green maple tree with my textbook opened while my tea would cool. And mama's lavender would blossom, by the raspberry bushes beside the grapevines.

Our new backyard was blah. Barren. With little stubs for trees, and an open scope of nothingness. A pile of junk for a landfill intimidated the corner of my eye. But I was amused. A boy and a girl sat in the dirt, about three feet away from the boundary of where fences will soon be raised. The boy was digging away with his blue plastic shovel, and the little girl was yelling out instructions. They were cute, I thought. And how wonderful to be playing in dirt, rather than playing with video games....or staring at a laptop for that matter.

Soon after, I saw two other boys from around the neighborhood had joined them. They were careful to not step on my yard, and took the longest way around possible. Cautious, as if it could trigger a landmine if they went over the line. I started giggling, because I knew they saw me watching them from the kitchen. One of the boys had a soccer ball, and when he kicked it, accidentally landing on the grass into my yard. He stopped and stared at it, not knowing what to do. Eventually, I just waved at him. He picked up his soccer ball, and took the longer way around back to behind the boundary, as if apologetic that he stepped beyond the line on the grass.

Territories and boundaries of property. And understanding it at such a young age. There were no fences built yet, only imaginary ones. And this, already instilled into their innocent minds....