Innocence, Four-year-old Style
“Children are the hands by which we take hold of heaven.”
–Henry Ward Beecher
I ask my granddaughter to take my hand as we cross the busier section of Sharon Woods parking lot, so I don’t get hit by a car. She’s my helper until the space opens into a park-anywhere zone. We have been watching her older brother play baseball. Her attention span doesn’t last two hours yet.
“Run, Grandma!”
No thanks. I’m old,” I answer knowing that keeping up with her is as likely as flying without wings.
“You’re four today,” she states running toward the playground. “I see a friend.”
She hugs someone. An older girl, tall and thin, ebony dark. Then she joins the other children on the playground equipment.
As the children play, I talk to the thin girl’s mother. It appears unlikely that my sweet grandchild saw any more than a fresh spirit when we entered the playground.
“Let’s go back and watch your brother play ball,” the mother calls to her daughter and siblings.
The girls hug again.
Today is my birthday. I didn’t need to unwrap this gift. It came open on a sunny May Saturday. I am blessed. I am blessed. I am blessed.
terrypetersen 