At four years old, Cole seems wise beyond his years. He can tell you Saturn is his favorite planet, the birds flying overhead are vultures, and he wants three more crackers so he'll have five. So I'm always surprised by the little things that remind me he is only four.
Last night, for example. As we snuggled in his bed before lights out, he asked how old I was. We talked about the ages of people we know and I told him that sometimes people live to be 100 years old.
He looked at me with wide eyes and asked, "Where do they live?"
I told him that it usually depends on their health and that there are special places they can live where people take care of them.
"Can we meet someone who is 100 years old?" he asked, with true reverence in his voice.
"Sure," I replied. "We can visit a nursing home and bring some of your drawings."
"How big is it?"
"What do you mean?"
"How do they fit in the building?"
Suddenly, I realized he didn't know that people stop growing.
I imagined a group of elderly people as tall as redwoods in rocking chairs on a gigantic front porch. Instead of seeing them as society does, with the useful part of their lives over, I saw them as Cole did--strong and powerful, worthy of our awe.
Sometimes I hate introducing him to reality.
3 comments:
This is SO sweet!!
I think I'll keep the idea of growing as tall and strong as a redwood as I get older! After all, it's what's in your head that matters, right?
That would be kind of cool, actually! I am reminded visually of the Ents, for some reason.
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