Like a Child
Sometimes my whole being wants to be a child again. This morning, I was walking downhill, on Liberty Street, in Ann Arbor, heading for the Y to swim. A woman had a young toddler by the hand and they were walking uphill, my way. She had her coat open (notable on this terribly cold, windy day) and her hat was crooked on her head. She was no more than two feet taller than him. He had on a waist-length jacket, brown with buttons, bulging from his darling, fat, little belly. I saw his shirt and t-shirt and his too-tight jeans clearly, because by holding her hand, he had his arm straight up in the air, making his jacket pull up from his waist. He was no older than eighteen months, had a wide smile on his chubby, baby face and was looking in every direction at once. It was apparently difficult for him to climb this hill with his arm straight up, holding her hand. “You’re going to have to learn how to walk straight pretty soon.” sh...