I AM THAT AGE
There was only one place to sit on the bus heading downtown, and being a knackered old geezer, I took it. Next to a little round-headed moppet with flopsy hair and her grandfather. And I listened in on their conversation. She knew her numbers and the days of the week in English, and though he only responded in Cantonese, he understood. But when she spoke of school, every word was entirely in "our" language.
Her voice was clear and bell-like.
I am bad at guessing ages. I would say three.
Maybe four. but a very small four.
No, not five yet.
They got off at Grant. When I exited at Kearny, I could see them up the street heading to a doorway in the middle of the block.
One elderly coot, and one wide awake moppet.
I never had children. Which I rather regret.
I might have made a decent parent.
At the Occidental the conversation revolved around politics. Fortunately the two people who voted Trump weren't there. Their arrogance would have been discordant.
I'm just mentioning this. Had they been present, different subjects would have been brought up.
The evening started quietly.
And ended quietly.
I headed out with pouch and pipe.
I returned dreaming.
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