The Museum

Gleefully, he watched as water rose filling the city, and boats floated on anticipation of his hopes and aspirations. He wanted to flood the city, until no more water could fit, that was in an interactive exhibit at the museum, specifically that of nature and art. But nature was too common and art was too philosophical, and for that, he was uninterested in both. Granted, he was only seven and easily distracted, so he, instead, played with the children’s display of dams and floods and how they are caused and how they are prevented.  A small plastic village, panels that open and close to mimic a pike system, and hose to represent rain was a recipe for hours of entertainment for children and cleanup for mothers who hauled off soaking children in drenched tee shirts.  But during those hours, tired mothers were no longer tired. Instead they off observing the commonly philosophical while the children played under supervision of museum volunteers, who signed up for more than they expected.

He and his mother went to the museum often, for she had hopes and aspirations once. Before the kids area, he was stuck by his mother. He would stay near her side as she lost herself in what she saw. Occasionally she would turn to him saying “with a strong mind and persistent attitude, you can do anything you want to” and he would nod and pretend to understand. Those days seemed endless as he attempted to stay still for his mother’s sake. This feeling ended when they added the children’s exhibit.

“Hello,” said the scrawny volunteer. He couldn't have been older than twenty, but that mattered little to the mother for she had bags under her eyes and a headache in her brain.

Ignoring him, she turned to her child. “You can go with the rest of the kids or you can come stay quietly with mommy,” she said half heartedly, fully expecting her son to bound off before she could finish her sentence, which he did. “ I’ll be back to pick him up at six,” she sighed now addressing the volunteer. He nodded enthusiastically , reminding her of times when she was young and had no regrets. She walked towards the exhibits, looking back at her son one last time.

          He was a curious and messy child, as most are at seven, but he was headstrong and determined in all that he did. This attribute happened to apply to blocking all the water from reaching the drains. He had no specific reason other than the thought it might look cool if everything flooded over the ledge. Dashing back and forth, pressing buttons to start the rain, closing panels, and battling children who attempted to ruin his efforts, he wore himself thin. Some children joined him in an unspoken companionship, but none seemed to be as dedicated as he.  They watched the gates fill but would not wait until they overflowed to open the panels and watch their plastic boats flow down for instant gratification. And so he got upset. He ran to sulk in a corner, giving up on his cause.

“What’s wrong?” He looked up to see a girl, possibly his age, standing over him, looking confused.

“They keep opening the gates!” he pouted.

“So you’re gonna stop playing?” she questioned, clearly looking confused.

“I don’t wanna play if they keep messing up what I wanna do” he said and for some reason, he sounded silly. It didn't sound silly in his head, but out loud it did.

“Not everyone is gonna want to do what you wanna do” she said coolly, walking away before he could respond. So he got up, feeling somewhat embarrassed, and began to play again. He started at is same attempts and forgot that embarrassed feeling. He played again in the same enthusiasm he had earlier and didn't even mind when the other kids ruined his plan. He played until his mother came, exactly at six.

“Ready to go?” she called and though he was not, he came anyway. He never saw his dream fulfilled, yet was still happy. And upon seeing his happiness, his mother smiled her first smile in a very long time.