A glimpse of a scene from way back when, yea those many years ago.
Grandma has a water pump. Needs primed to make it go.
The old pump stands a little ways outside the kitchen door.
The secret is to prime and pump, to make the water pour.

A tin of water into the pump. Bucket setting carefully in place.
Grab the handle and rapidly pump. With gravity it’s always a race.
The water reluctantly starts its ascent, from far down deep in the ground.
The familiar gush as it exits the pump is always a happy sound.

The scene switches now to Granny’s house. A mere half mile away.
Only use your quiet voice. Not a place to run and play.
Granny forgets which child you are. “Do you belong to John or Jack?”
Vanilla ice cream magically appears. Chocolate cookies from a sack.

Stay at least twenty minutes. It’s surely the polite thing to do.
“You’re leaving so soon? Been a real nice visit with you.”
A slight hug at the door. “Thanks for the treat.”
Other places to go. Hurry on down the street.

The story inexorably unfolds. It Shifts from place to place.
Leisurely or frenetic. The trick is keeping pace.
No convenient second chance. Scenes play but a single time.
Opportunity comes and goes at the pump you neglect to prime.