We live in a tiny French village. Have been here for almost six and a half years. We were charmed by the mountains and the fields and the open spaces. What we didn’t know was that our son would fall in love with football here… that he would grow a family of footballers and coaches who would love him and nurture his love for the beautiful game. That the whole village would come together at times to hold events that would be just wonderful to watch.
And so two introverts head out to this party, and take pictures, and drink in the beauty of the diverse people that make up this village. We do not go eagerly, but we know this is our small thank you to a village that has embraced us and our cubs. Like the African proverb goes, “It takes a village to raise a child.”
The major finale is always this pool made from bales of hay, a large plastic sheet and ropes. When the adults are done competing, the kids get to dip and have a blast until the sun is no longer so hot. For a few hours each June afternoon, we have our own swimming pool, and it is precious.
A few crazy young people will jump in too, and today one of the school moms was carried and dumped into the pool by her friends. I just stood there and drank it all in, thankful for another season that comes to an end, thankful that for this time, I live in this tiny village.
M