Those Blue Eyes

It was so recently, it seems… I was walking along my street and spotted suddenly a little boy aged five or thereabout. He was curly-haired, with blue eyes and plump cheeks, an incarnation of innocence. I came up to him and asked his name. “Alec” was his answer. I wanted to do something nice for him. Stuck my hand into my pocket, but found nothing. It’s only in jokes that cool Coke comes pat to a thirsty traveler in the desert. So I touched the boy on the shoulder and said: “Grow up, laddie! And be good!” He looked at me with those blue eyes of his and replied very seriously “I will be good”. “Go for it!” said I and went my way…

The other day I looked out the window. Again somebody was washing his car opposite my house. Recalling good manners and mustering all my self-control, I addressed myself to the man who was rinsing the bumper.

“My dear Sir! Could I ask you not to wash your car here? This is prohibited by the rules. You are tramping the grass and making the lawn into a dirty puddle.”

Unbending over the bumper, the car owner turned to me.   A bozo of twenty odd years and two heads above me. The chest is hollow, the head is small, like that of an ostrich, and projected forward on a skinny neck. A cigarette-butt migrates from one corner of his mouth to another. Having scrutinized me with unseeing eyes, he queried:

“You want anything else from me?”

“No, nothing else.”

“Then, get lost man. Before I smash your mug.”

Two blue eyes were peering at me from a smallish head. I recognized their possessor. That was Alec Chekmusov, the neighbor’s son. That same little boy who had encountered me at his wicket. It was so recently, it seems…