When I was a child, I lived next door to an older woman named Mrs. Smith. She and I were sitting on the porch together. She liked to put empty coffee cans outside and listen to the sound of rain falling to the bottom of the can. The sound soothed her, but it also soothed me. I was only six years old, but listening to the soft rain fall to the bottom of a Folgers can seemed like the most exciting and fascinating thing in the world.
That’s right. As children, our excitement threshold is very low. A few years later, when my son was about 4 years old, he found a rotten apple core under the couch. Then he held it out to me, as if it were the most interesting thing in the world, as if it were something simple and corrupt. He was so charming. That’s right. When you are a child, you are introduced to a kind of exotic world that you miss as an adult.
Poet Thomas Hood said:
I remember.
I remember dark and tall fir trees.
I thought their narrow peaks were close to the sky.
It was a childish fantasy, but
But now it is a small joy to think that I am farther from heaven than I was when I was a boy.
This is Tom McBride, that’s my take.
