The Boy Who Loved Water
968 words
In the middle of Surfside Street, in a small house, lived Oliver, a lively 10-year-old who often found himself in trouble. Oliver smoothly moved around the fish tanks in his room. The soft buzzing and bubbly sounds of the water filters never stopped, making the room feel comfy day and night. He enjoyed watching his colourful fish friends darting around, searching for the tiny pieces of food he dropped in for them.
On his desk, Oliver shifted some half-full glasses to the left—some clear, others in different colours. To the right, there were brushes and watercolour palettes scattered about. He grabbed a small tank on wheels, placed it in front of him, and settled into his chair. He pulled a handle under him, and the chair started going down. Once his head was level with the desk, he stopped and peeked inside the tank. The walls of his room were like an underwater world, covered in paintings of the deep blue sea. Looking through the glass, it felt like his fishy friends were swimming in the ocean.
After making sure his buddies were happy, Oliver found his mom in the kitchen. She was making his favourite fish soup. Oliver thought, Wouldn’t it be amazing if we had a lot more of this tasty soup? He filled a big glass of water and threw it in the pan.
“Oh no, Oliver!” His mother looked at the soup. “It’s all watery now. You’re too old to be playing with water. You need to grow up! Just go, I’ll find a way to fix it.”
Oliver looked at the floor, whispering, “I wasn’t playing, I was just trying to help.” He saw light in his little brother’s room and entered. Noah was busy painting with watercolours. Oliver sat down next to him. “What are you drawing?”
“I drew a sea,” Noah said with a proud smile, looking at his brother’s eyes.
“Let me help you,” Oliver said. “The colours need to blend more in the middle.” Oliver picked up a watercolour pencil, dipped it into a cup of water, and drew a straight line from the top to the bottom.
Noah looked at the painting. What was once a continuous blue sea was now divided into two sections, one on the left and one on the right, with the middle almost completely lacking the blue colour. He turned to Oliver, tears welling up in his eyes.
“You ruined it, you ruined it! Mom! Oliver is messing with the water again!”
Oliver looked at Noah. “I was just trying to help you,” he said and left the room before his mom had time to arrive. He found his dad vacuuming the living room carpet.
“This carpet is so hard to clean,” his dad said.
“I’ll help you, Dad!” Oliver said. He ran to the kitchen, filled a cup of water, and threw it on the carpet before Dad could say a word.
“Oh no, Oliver! It’s all soggy now. You’re too old to be playing with water all the time! You need to grow up. Please go.”
Oliver ran up the stairs crying. I wasn’t playing, I was trying to help! He looked for his Grandma. She was seated on her chair, looking outside the window.
“What’s going on, Oliver?” she said and touched his hands. Her hands were cold.
“Grandma,” Oliver sobbed, “I don’t want to grow up.”
Grandma looked at him. “Why?”
“Because I won’t be able to use water anymore. But I love water, Grandma, I love it, I love it.”
Grandma wiped away his tears and said, “You know, I love water too,” his grandma said. “And right now, my throat is very dry. Can you make me a cup of tea?”
Oliver ran once again to the kitchen and prepared a soothing cup of tea. “Here it is Grandma.”
She sighed in contentment and said, “Oh, thank you, dear. I really needed this.”
“Grandma, why does everyone say water is bad?”
“Sometimes people don’t see what you see. For example, what do you see when you look at those roses?” She pointed outside the window toward their garden.
“They are beautiful,” Oliver said.
“They are. But did you notice that the leaves are a bit limp? This means they need water. Can you please water them? I can’t stand watching them die.”
Without hesitation, Oliver headed outside to water his Grandma’s struggling plants. When he entered his grandma’s room again, she saw her eyes closed. She was sleeping more recently. He took the cup from her hands as gently as he could to avoid waking her up. Her hands still felt cold. He tiptoed out of the room, went to the kitchen, and boiled water. Then he poured it into Grandma’s warm water bottle. He gently placed it over her hands.
Grandma opened one eye and looked at him with a tiny smile. “Thank you, Oliver. The warm water feels so good.” She closed her eye and laid back.
Oliver walked out of the room with a big smile on his face. He found his family gathered at the dinner table. Without any hesitation, he grabbed the teapot and placed it on the table. Then, he filled a glass of water for each of them and, with a mischievous glint in his eye, asked for his dad’s mobile. He typed “waterfall sounds” on YouTube and clicked play.
As the soothing sounds of water filled the room, his dad smiled. Mom lifted her glass and clinked on Dad’s glass. They both turned to Oliver, who was looking at them with a huge smile on his face.
“I get it now. No more messes!”
He lifted his glass in the air for a toast.
“To good water?” he asked.
“To good water!” they shouted and then burst into laughter.