Time slipped away from me, taking me off guard. One minute I was in my prime, then BANG I was a history book. But that's important for the little ones who never run out of questions about anything and everything under the sun, and somehow, I've always been able to quench their thirst for answers.
What makes the sun so bright? How do birds fly? What makes a waterfall fall? As adults, we just chalk it up to age and learning is just a tool we use every day, but then I think about their little selves with a virgin brain screaming for answers for anything and everything they question. They see the world around them but don't understand much of what makes things tick. So nothing is off-limits when their volley of questions is shot out with the expectation of answers.
Why do the wheels on a car on television spin backwards? Why can't I spin my head around like an owl? As they begin to grow and their questions sometimes challenge a scholar, I realize one day I won't have all the answers they seek. How does a penny sink in the water, but a huge ship floats? Why does my stomach growl when I'm hungry, and how can Cousin Bobby shoot milk out of his nose?
Then, as they grow older and the questions keep coming, I fear my usefulness is winding down, and they see it and sometimes ask others to answer the tough ones, like, "Why are there wars when peace can be achieved through talking?" Why do the important things in life come with a cost, and why does what we say and how we look determine our destiny in this century?
I believe the old saying, out of the mouth of babes, holds true. I listen to conversations at the Sunday dinner table, those young minds growing faster and faster, talking over one another until someone throws down their napkin in protest. Just how smart are they? I've asked myself, and my answer is simple. They learn over time that all the seemingly simple questions have seemingly simple answers learned by asking, and they stick with them as their minds grow in capacity to comprehend more difficult questions that boggle your mind and make you want to retreat into your quiet place with a glass of wine and a good book.
Some of these younger people will go on to do great things and ask the really serious questions. I wonder if they will remember asking about what makes a waterfall fall, or why they can't rotate their head like an owl? Were my answers locked somewhere deep down in their mind where they've remained for years? Maybe so because I just saw my eldest grandchild toss a penny into the pond.
Mike 2026
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