It was a beautiful November morning. There wasn't a cloud in the sky and the air was cool and crisp. The breeze was happy and gentle. It was the perfect day for a picnic.
The DJ had just finished setting up. The music wafted out to every corner of the large, grassy lawn.
She must have been around thirteen or fourteen. She stood taller than most of the kids that ran around her. I disliked her immediately.
By virtue of her height and age, she reserved the right to bully the kids around her. She talked loudly and poked fun at everything that moved. I watched as she and her best friend pointed and laughed at a little girl's fluffy dress. The little girl blushed and hid behind a tree. She was going to grow up to be one mean-spirited woman, I figured.
When she lifted her head and looked past me, the mean smirk on her face was so instantly transformed into an expression of such genuine warmth, that I just had to turn around to see what had caused the change.
It was her grandfather. He was hobbling down the grassy path with his walking stick, wanting to join his grandchildren where they played. The breeze lifted the hair off her face as she ran to meet him half way.
She threw her arms around his neck and kissed his wrinkled cheek. He kissed her back and they were lost in animated conversation when he suddenly lifted his walking stick and started to dance to Sean Paul's "Temperature". She held his hand and danced with him, swinging her foot back and kicking it out in time with his foot, in the traditional Arabic style.
And then they threw their heads back and laughed, these two children, dancing in the sunlight.