Laughing Waters
Crank. Crank. Hiss. Gurgle. Gurgle. Pop. Pop. Pop.
Anticipation. Anticipation.
Surprise. Squeal.
Laughter. Release.
What is it about a sprinkler? A simple turn of a faucet, a splash of water on skin, slippery grass under feet, streaking sunbeams on the face. Some call it yard irrigation. We call it joy.
There is a waterfall near our house called Minnehaha Falls. In Longfellow’s epic poem “Song of Hiawatha” he incorrectly translates the Dakota word to mean Laughing Waters. You can understand the confusion. The rushing creek at the top of the falls is at ground level so you hear the water before you see it, like laughter that carries through a city neighborhood on a warm evening. You can’t come to this park without being called to the falls, the edge of the rock, to peer at the source of the sound. And when you do, infinitesimal sized droplets bouncing from the force of the falling water hit your face like a surprise, like unexpected laughter. It’s a joy every time.
The water that falls is the same water that flows into the Mississippi River. The same water that collects into pipes and flows to our home. The same water that arrives when we turn on faucets and the laughter bubbles up once again.
In another poem “The Waterfall,” Mary Oliver says the falling water “seemed / surprised by the unexpected kindness of the air and / light hearted to be / flying at last.”
It is me that is surprised today, by the kindness of the air and the sunshine and the water that sounds like laughter. It is me that feels like I am falling. They do that to me. Just when I reach my edge, when I can handle no more, I fall, we fall. Yet not in terror, not in defeat, but rather in the joyful release of laughter, like a long held breath, stress and tension and failures held tightly at the top pulling with the mighty rush of gravity down and away, leaving only the light hearted spray of their simple delight. Like flying, at last.
Even the littlest one, disgruntled by the surprise of cold water, eases his grip in my arms, moves from shock to curiosity to wonder. Not quite laughter, but close. I feel this tension, too. Sometimes their joy takes time for me to understand. While other times, like today, it hits me with a hiss, a gurgle, a pop. They laugh and so do I. Oh how good that feels.
Still I wonder, what is it about a sprinkler? I may never know, and I hope I don’t. It’s much better to be surprised.
Image created by @phoenixfeatherscalligraphy for C+C, 2021
This post was written as part of a blog hop with Exhale—an online community of women pursuing creativity alongside motherhood, led by the writing team behind Coffee + Crumbs. Click here to read the next post in this series "Illuminate.”
PS. Have you signed up for the Raise & Shine Letter yet? It comes out mid month-ish, and like a cold sprinkler on a hot day, it’s sure to bring you surprise.