Sue parked me outside today, where I’ve been reading “The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo,” and I wondered how a book titled, “The Man with a Hammerhead Shark Tattoo,” would do. Occaisionly I’d look up and see a few things that I normally don’t pay to much attention too, not being habitually on my back, as I am now, in a zero-gravity chair with my left leg on a pillow.
Look closely. See anything? Probably not…so look at the zoomed image. I didn’t even have to get up. I found the zoom on my cell-phone camera. It’s been a very busy morning above shaun melarvie’s head.
I’d like to think that maybe, just maybe, this momma-bird is the same one whose life I saved (at the end of the book) last year when it fell from its nest, in the exact same location. It’s a small world as they say.
It started sunny, then got cloudy, threatening a sprinkle, but only bluffing. Now, it’s sunny again, and I should be working on my chapter about a small, dark man, but when time stretches before you, like an empty road, it doesn’t really matter.
I called my grandaughter, Evie, yesterday:
“What are you doing?”
“Filling out your card.”
“Oh..that’s nice. I can’t wait to get it. Are you going to bring it with you, or mail it?”
“Mail it–I’m not coming for thirty days.”
“Thirty days? You’ll be here in 12 days, Evie. That’s less then two weeks, which is only a short time away.”
“Hunh-uh. Thirty days.”
“You’re coming on the thirthieth…right?”
“Well. Today’s the 18th, so that means it’s only 12 days away.”
“Mmmm?” She murmered, not quite convinced.
That’s what it’s like inside the mind of a child. June 30th must equal a perpetual 30 days, so far in the future that it’s not at all surprising that it seems to never get closer, alway remaining a hopelessly far off 30 days.
Another example is my nephew, Gabe, a whole two months younger than Evie. Evie called him on the phone a few days ago to tell him that she was going to grandpa and grandmas, where she was going to turn six, and have a birthday, and get all sorts of presents.
Gabe, who will be visiting at the same time, quickly put two and two together, and old enough to know that six comes after five, realized that he had some major “missing-out” potential. Maintaining composure, he finished his conversation, hung up, burst into tears, “Evie’s going to be SIX,” he bawled. Only after calling his auntie (Sue) and disclosing this in a tearful hysteria, and then regurgitating a similar torrent for my benefit did he calm down–of course, that required assurances that he could have a birthday too.
How nice it would be if adult problems could be fixed so easily.