"Ahhh!", she said, inspecting her prize.
" Ohhh!", I said. "That was a tomato, now it won't grow. "
Eyes wide, I saw the programing going on, the cataloging, the adding of this to her knowledge base. She sat cradling the little darling. "Mato!" She confirmed, nodding, grinning.
Then without warning, with a flick of her dimpled wrist, she flung it off the balcony.
It was a perfect metaphor. We grow. We stop. We live; we die.
But this is what I learned from my grandbaby today. To be truly seen, to be the object of unadulterated appreciation, pure and without agenda, is a pretty great thing. Even if it lasts for only a few seconds before we hit the pavement.
