I accompany my daughter to the surgical center in predawn darkness. My three year old grandson is scheduled for a procedure. He wants a drink of water, which is not allowed before anesthesia. He is very focused on his need for liquid. When we leave the house his mother points to the moon, still high in the sky. He asks, ” Mama, can we drive right under the moon?” “Sure, Bud,” says his mom. He stops asking for a drink, the unpleasantness of his thirst forgotten for the moment.
It’s the early 50’s. My mother walks me to school those first few months. There’s a sharp recollection of leaving her side to walk across the schoolyard to enter the building with other children. A feeling of being overwhelmed by ‘bigness.’ No looking back or crying for me, though. I want to learn about the world.
air raid drill
a tiny caterpillar curls up
under a leaf