fixed point on the horizon

Those monkey bars you thought were so tall really aren't.... though its a matter of perspective. While home we took the pooch on a walk and ended up at our old elementary school. Everything appeared tiny. This is not to be confused with my affinity for things in miniature, this is quite different. The small size of the swings, monkey bars, slides, and tire swings really provided a sneaky sense of perspective. One of life's more gentle little reminders, if you will. Perhaps the fact that over the last month or so the not-so-gentle version of life's little reminders has ruled the roost. Thus I was blown over by the disconnect between my memory of those playground toys and their actual size. I don't want to wax nostalgic about my days as a rambunctious wee one, but I do find the distance covered (in a manner of speaking) quite interesting. Most of life's reminders that we take note of, to my way of thinking, occur when there are larger things at play. Someone's life, usually in the literal sense, as an example. Those tiny toys set themselves up as the fixed point on the horizon, a tool to measure distance and direction. I know there are others out there, I just haven't noticed 'em lately.

Perhaps as an entertaining side trip into things in miniature... this walk through my elementary school yard and the size of the toys got me thinking about elementary schools in general. Though the water fountains, sinks, and toilets are essentially the same size, they are situated in such a way that makes it easy for little kids to use them. Meaning, they're quite low to the ground. You feel like a giant when you walk into a bathroom at an elementary school. Don't deny it people. You're entertained by that as well.