The Wisdom of Six-Year-Olds

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I heard an amazingly beautiful story today. I'll do my best to retell it here.

A grandmother was tucking her six-year-old grandson into bed.
The little boy, whose father had committed suicide a year prior,
asked her what death felt like.

Caught off guard, she first responded, "It probably doesn't feel like anything."

Then she explained that if you have a strong spirit,like his daddy did, she believed your spirit continued on and took another form.

The little boy thought for a moment.

"I think my dad's spirit is an apple tree. He had a really healthy body and he liked apples," he said. "But his mind wasn't healthy."

"I hope he's an apple tree and he can see the sky and feel the fresh air on his branches."

Gulp. Yeah, it brought tears to my eyes. Still does.

@ asked me yesterday what "represent" means. We talked about it and I used my hawk tattoo as an example, saying that for me it represents N, his twin.

We talked about how after he and N were born, a small hawk started spending time in the trees around my house -- showing up every once in awhile as if it were checking in, then flying away.

Always one with an answer, @ explained it to me.

The hawk comes to our house
to look for N and
when he can't find him
he flies away because he's so sad.

Gulp.

The wisdom of six-year-olds: There's no pretense. There's no "I wonder if this sounds wrong" or "What will people think if I say this out loud?" There's just the pure, clear, truth as they see it.

(And yes, six years later, the hawk still visits.)

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