It’s never too late to have a happy childhood. (Tom Robbins, Still Life with Woodpecker)
On Labor Day afternoon my granddaughter, Ella, and I play fast-food restaurant. She is at the drive-through and I am a 107-year-old customer with a special request. Since my chewing is limited, I want my order cut into small pieces: 2 hamburgers, a couple dozen chicken nuggets, five orders of fries.
She is willing to oblige.
“How much is that?” I ask as I reach for my invisible order from my imaginary car. (Fortunate, since at 107, more than chewing mechanisms would be out of order. Driving may not be advisable.)
“Nine hundred dollars.” She grins.
Wow! Service charges have gone up everywhere. However, in the pretend world I can reach into my pocket and find five dollars, a thousand dollars, or a magic frog.
Perhaps I should have given her the magic frog.
Imagination. I hope it stays with me until I am old enough to keep the nursing home entertained.
Ella’s real-life gifts appear as I get lunch ready. She makes Lego creations for my friend, Ann, to see by feeling them. Ann has been blind since birth. I don’t mind that Ella sits next to Ann instead of me.
After the meal, Ella brings Ann to our toy shelf and shows her safe-for-kid paint jars, stuffed animals, cars.
I watch. Enriched. Ella has Down syndrome: I am grateful to be favored by the up of her existence.
terrypetersen 