Me: These are my letters to Oma’s friends.
Micah: Whoa, she has a lot of friends.
Me: She lived for 71 years. That’s a lot of time to make friends.
Micah: How old is she now?
Me: She’s no age anymore. She’s dead.
Micah: But she still has birthdays. And we can celebrate it!
Me: Next week will be her 74th birthday.
Micah: Whoa, she’s old.
I love Micah for still keeping Oma staunchly in the present tense with us.
Then, for First Friday this morning, Micah planted seeds for the school garden. In his case beet seeds. No matter Micah’s deep hostility toward beets headed for his mouth, planting their tiny crumpled seeds was an act of hope and love. He even shared his water with them.
Once the seeds were snug in their moist peat pouches, the kids drew pictures of the future vegetables. Micah gave his garden a dragon, always a plus when you have tender shoots of hope to protect.
Ditto for me and my letters. I’m sure Micah won’t fail to make me a dragon later today. (Pun intended, sorry.)