Arlo: “When’s my [fourth] birthday?”
His mother: “In two weeks.”
Arlo: “It’s waiting for me.”
Besotted yet a long-distance grandmother to this exalted, goldilocks child, I often wonder how his growing-up-in-a post-COVID-world mind works. Our connectivity maintained by Saturday morning FaceTimes, for example, sometimes he “feeds” me some little breakfast treat. I make suitable munching noises; praise whatever I just “ate.” We both know this isn’t real. One of us still marvels at the technology required for this shared moment. One of us doesn’t.
But both of us wait. Both of us, clear-eyed, see the horizon. His is about a party, cake, candles, gifts. And mine is about mid-term elections, upcoming surgery, wondering, hoping if I can live long enough to witness a future I’ve spent most of my life working for and now must simply pray for without ceasing.
Adorable comment from Arlo —
Nice insight from you . I will read it many times. Sue
I love this: “One of us marvels at the technology required for this moment. One of us doesn’t.”