The more sand that has escaped from the hourglass of our life, the clearer we should see through it. (Jean-Paul Sartre, writer and philosopher 1905-1980)
My hourglass of life has had a lot of sand leak out. However, that doesn’t mean I look through the sides with any clarity. In fact, sometimes I rely on the know-how of persons far younger.
As I open the freezer door melted vanilla ice cream drips out. Fortunately our kitchen is small and a towel is handy. This is not exactly a welcome sight on a day when my two older grandchildren are spending the day with Grandma and Grandpa. At least the problem does not seem to be a faulty appliance. Either the door didn’t get shut all the way or something fell and blocked the vents.
“Hey, Kate! Want to earn a dollar or two and help Grandma clean this mess?”
My young buddy is ready and available.
Grandpa helps to empty the space. Then Kate and I get to work. The bottom metal tray is locked into place. I recall pulling it out once, accidentally, to removed spilled ground coffee. I don’t recall how I did it—accidents don’t necessarily replicate themselves for the sake of convenience.
Kate stands on my handy-dandy, short-person kitchen stool and checks the mechanics of the sliding drawer. Within seconds the drawer it out!
“Way to go Kate.” The girl has inherited her mother’s practical creativity. Soon the freezer is clean.
“So, how should we organize this?” I ask.
“Bags on the bottom; boxes on top.”
Somehow the small space seems to have expanded. “Smart girl, Kate. This looks great.”
Sure, I could bemoan the fact that I needed a ten-year-old girl to figure out how to remove a drawer. Or I could celebrate her and maybe even learn how to take the tray out myself the next time. Chances are there will be a next time. I have no plans to claim perfection anytime soon. The fun comes in the adventure of learning, eventually anyway.
terrypetersen 