Waiting beside the lock

An original literary non-fiction-style account of watching boats pass through a canal lock.

The woman on the first boat held a mug so steadily that I assumed she had done nothing else all morning. Her companion was on the bank, walking back towards the lock. He called something about leaving a gate open. She put down the mug and pointed towards a notice. He stopped to read it, then returned without saying anything.

I was waiting with my nephew, who wanted to see the water rise. He had chosen a position from which almost everything was hidden by a wall. When I suggested moving, he said that he was saving our place. A man with a bicycle told him that the view was better from the other side. My nephew waited until the man had gone before asking whether we could try it.

From there, we could see another boat approaching. A small girl on its roof waved to us. Her father asked her to come down before they reached the lock. She disappeared, then reappeared at a window with the same hand still waving. My nephew waved back. He no longer asked how long the process would take.

The two boats were close together while their crews talked. The woman with the mug described a mooring further along the canal, tracing its position in the air. A young man took out his phone, but she shook her head and pointed towards a bend that we could actually see. He put the phone away and looked.

When the boats moved on, my nephew wanted to follow them along the towpath. I suggested that we stay and watch the next arrivals instead. He reminded me that we had only come to see water rising. I said that I remembered. Neither of us moved towards the road.

What do you learn about the people watching and using the lock?