not drowning but waving
Every morning I drive to work, there is a group of small children waiting on a corner for the school bus. They are little kids, not more than maybe seven or eight years old, and one of them, a little dark haired, flashing eyed boy, every day I drive by, without fail, is hanging off the pavement, his face full of excitement, watching for the bus to come around the corner.
Now before I go any further, let me explain a little about Spain and how it deals with its children. The school buses are luxury coaches, they come on time, every day a parent is on board (having drawn up a rota with all the other parents), the police close off the surrounding streets during school opening and closing times and the buses are paid for, in the case of state schools, by local government.
A Spanish child would never be stolen from her bedroom because a Spanish child would never be left alone to guard a pair of infants while she slept. A Spanish child would be in the restaurant with extended family and friends all taking responsibility for her. And she would never be seen by any other Spaniard in the restaurant as a “bloody child who shouldn’t be here.”
Community means everything here. If Spain is losing a lot of its individuality because of EU inclusion, community responsibility is one thing (apart from endemic law breaking), thankfully, that remains.
Now back to the kids at the bus stop. My little man, as I said, every morning, practically jumps off the pavement with excitement, his face full of expectancy for the day ahead. And every day, his brother pulls him back from the edge of the pavement, while a posse of adults stand guard.
And I got to wondering, that little boy, cute as a button, will he spend the rest of his life heading for the edge? Will he always have someone to pull him back? Will he even want that?
And if he does always prefer to live on the edge, will people realise, will even he realise, he’s not drowning, but waving?