Friday, April 9, 2010

What is THAT?

This is a question my 5-year old niece asks pretty often.

Today she asked it to me when she and her parents came to drop off some perishable food before they drive to California for a wedding.

The that in question was my bicycle tire, which was hanging from the corner of a bookshelf.

"That's a tire for my bicycle," said I.

She pondered this.

"Why is it so huge?" she asked.

"I am a huge person, and so I need huge tires." I said.

She pondered this.

"And what is that?" she asked, pointing, "Is that the cover for the wheel?"

"No," said I, "that's the tube. It goes inside the wheel, to keep it fat."

She pondered this.

"It has a sticker on it," said she.

"Yes," said I, "it's called a patch. I put a patch on the tube because there was a hole in it."

She pondered this. "A patch?" she asked.

"Yes," said I, "like pirates wear. Pirates wear eye patches because they have holes in their faces."

"That's weird," she says. "They only have one eye?"

"Yes," says I. " That's why I don't want to be a pirate."

She ponders this.

Then she looks up at my eyes, which are covered by my glasses.

"I don't need glasses," she says.

"No, you don't," says I, "but you might need them when you're older."

She ponders this. "Yeah, like when I'm a grandma."

We both ponder this.

"I'm not a grandma," she tells me, "but I'm practicing to be a mom."

I ponder this. "Yeah?" I say.

"I have an imaginary husband," says she.

"Yeah?" I say.

"Yeah," says she.

"What's his name?" says I.

"David Bowie," says she.

I ponder this.

"But's he's fake," says she, and wanders off happily to eat her Raisin Bran.

Thursday, April 1, 2010

If not now, when?

Wrote a long letter to a good friend tonight.

I've been looking at the world with the intent to write it with a while now, which means that I'd see something or hear something and start writing a paragraph in my head, trying out how it would sound to describe it to Joumana.

Two months of that kind of thinking made for a six page letter. I think I enjoy letter writing almost more than anything else, so it's a pity I don't do it more often.

I'd kept putting off writing it, telling myself I didn't have the time, that I'd find time in the evening, that I'd find time over the weekend.

Finally decided that the only way to find time is to look for it. Strangely enough, as soon as I looked, there it was.