Fountain of Youth

This is a work of fiction. No real people, places or events were used. Copyright ã 2011 Plot Roach.

Fountain of Youth

By Plot Roach

“Fountain of Youth”

It was emblazoned in brass and attached to the side of a water fountain. I did a double take before taking a sip. Someone’s idea of a joke, no doubt. It was hidden snugly behind the big orange dinosaur playhouse that was next to the swing set. I was waiting for my sister in law to get here with my nephew, Riley. He was seven, a head taller than most of the kids in his class, and a handful for his fragile mother. I heard him before I saw him, making growling sounds like the prehistoric beast he was running to.

“Hiya, Aunt Mag!” he called out, his head up the orange dinosaur’s mouth while I watched him through the open backside of the beast.

“Hey, Riley.” I called back. I looked over to his mother, Willow. She nodded, talking extensively into her cell phone and handed over a backpack that was nicknamed “the boy’s bag”. Though some parents wish that their children came with an instruction book, Riley came with survival gear. It carried everything from snacks and juice, to medication and emergency medical paperwork. The boy suffered from allergies, asthma and a few other things that the doctors of this fine city had been unable to identify as of yet. He had bad days, where he could barley get out of bed, and good days, where he was the king of the playground. Today was a good day, and I was grateful for it. I hated being stuck in Willow’s museum like house with its air filters and ionizers as much as I’m sure a boy like Riley did.

In the old days, he would be heading off to some lake in a country side home, a dog tagging along at his heels. Now he couldn’t touch a seat in a doctor’s office without his mother smothering him from head to toe in antibacterial gel, and no animals were permitted within fifty feet of the young man due to ‘dangers of dander’.

Now he had to make due with a playground and some quality time with his Aunt Mag. And I tried my best to see that the little boy had the time of his life, even if it was on a sterilized playground. Other kids and their parents came and went throughout the day. And while Riley played with a few of them, he didn’t really know any of them by name. While his mother often dropped him off here for playtime with me, she never spent time here herself. Riley was ill so much of the time that traditional schooling was no longer and option, so he was home schooled with tutors who sometimes knew him better than his own parents.

I sat to the side on a green wooden bench, letting him play tag with a group of five youngsters around his age, keeping his asthma inhaler handy for when it was needed. The sight of him running, screaming and smiling from ear to ear warmed me heart even as the sun threatened me with heatstroke. I moved to the water fountain and took another drink, keeping an eye on Riley just in case something should happen.

I never saw the little old man until I nearly tripped over him.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t see you there.” I apologized.

“No need, I should have made more noise, but I’m used to coming and going without being seen.” He said. He was a little man with thinning grey hair combed over the bald spot on the top of his head. His smile was infectious and he looked like a figure from a fairytale in green overalls and a matching green undershirt. I looked to his grass stained boots and caught a whiff of hay, and in an instant I remembered my childhood summers visiting an aunt on her ranch and helping to take care of her horses.

“Are you a caretaker here?” I asked.

“Not officially, but I do take care of the land and the people who visit it.” he said, his eyes winking in the sunlight. He pulled a cloth from his pocket and polished the brass plate on the side of the drinking fountain.

“Oh, cute sign.” I said.

“I don’t think that I get your meaning, miss.”

“’The Fountain of Youth’, it’s cute. Though probably lost on the kids.”

“Oh that.” he said. “Have you tried it?”

“Yes, I drink from it whenever I come here.”

“And your boy?”

“My nephew. Yes, I supposed he does as well. Though I’m sure his mom would have a fit if she ever found out. She only likes him to have ‘sanitized’ things.”

“That’s a shame, especially when nature can heal so much.”

“Tell that to the hand sanitizer queen…” I mumbled, looking for Riley on the playground.

“Still, it seems to be working its magic on him.”

“What do you mean?”

“He hasn’t had to use that white little device you carry around with you today.”

“His asthma inhaler?” I asked. And then I realized that the old man was right. Riley has been playing, running and jumping for more than an hour and hadn’t needed one puff of the stuff since we had been here. In fact, I couldn’t ever recall him having to need to use it since we started visiting this playground. Ever.

“But it couldn’t be the water.” I said and turned back to the old man. He was gone, like a puff of smoke in a magician’s act. And as I stood watching Riley play with the other children I wracked my brain to think of the last time I was sick, tired or otherwise run down after I had visited this place with my nephew. And I had to admit to myself that perhaps this place held a little bit of magic in it after all.