The Sliding Beads

I walked past the swings over to the cedar activity panel beside the play structure. Embedded in the timber was a row of stout wooden counting beads threaded on a smooth brass rod. Setting my mallets flat across my xylophone frame, I gripped the first round bead with two fingers. It spun easily under my thumb. With slow, steady pressure, I pushed it along the length of the metal bar. Clack. It struck the far wooden post with a bright, crisp knock that resonated beneath the timber roof. I slid a second bead right behind it, then a third, listening to each satisfying click settle into the afternoon air.