My niece is on summer break now, and already moping around the house with a slow slouch that only a child can manage. I’m a firm believer in allowing boredom to run its course. It’s not my job to entertain, although I do leave random books and art supplies on flat surfaces around the house. She’s at an age where toys aren’t as fun, but the urge to play is still there. That’s a tough transition for a kid.
I was sitting on the back porch this morning having tea and watching the backyard bunnies run amok in the sunrise, when my niece quietly slipped out and sat next to me. We didn’t speak for a while, and then she whispered, “They’re just so small. I thought I was small.” And with that she wandered back inside and picked up a book.
I’d set out Watership Down thinking if she picked it up, it would be good for at least a couple of weeks of peace. I was younger than my niece when I read it, and I can remember precisely how my heart felt when I put it down.
I remember thinking, they’re just so small.
My niece has dealt with a lot. She lost her father when she was only six, and has lived with the real worry of losing her mom for the past two years. She’s dealt with some pretty adult issues, but is still just a kid. It’s a strange dichotomy that makes her both weary and curious at the same time.
I try to remind her to live in this moment, the one that matters the most. And at this moment, she’s mindlessly twirling a lock of hair around her finger and her lips are moving as she reads about the warrens of bunnies and their adventures. She’s got her feet tucked under her and my dog is curled up beside her. She is precious.
Real life woman. Virtual World avatar. Likes top shelf vodka, dominant men, blues, sunsets and playing darts. Dislikes insecurity, rap, small children and clowns. I'm either behind the bar or under it.