Winston shaded his eyes, watching the elegant sweep of wings within the V flying above him. Time had brought him riches, but he would tell anyone that the bank could never hold what he found most dear.

How could you explain the ocean’s gaudy sparkle or a star’s exciting voyage if you didn’t wrap yourself in those things when you were young? Few his age would ever stand in wonder as dandelion heads played tag on the wind or listened in awe to the conversation of cornstalks in a field.

He lay on his back, cradled in the cool morning dew. He focused beyond the migrating geese and welcomed the incoming clouds with a smile. Mountains and castles, deer and ladybugs crossed above him.

Little feet, wearing mud spats, stomped beside his ear. “Grandpa, the tadpoles have grown!”

Winston sat up, coming to eye level with himself at five. “Then let’s go see what they’ve learned.”

He joined hands with his younger version and together they embarked on the rest of their day, prepared to hold court with royal flocks of grasshoppers and to laugh at the jokes the brook would tell.


Photograph by Dennis Flood


Published in: on August 30, 2006 at 10:22 pm  Comments Off on