The L train this morning.
Two cute kids, boys, sitting next to me.
I waved (raised palm) at the boy next to me, on my left. “Hi, good morning,” I said.
He smiled and said something.
“Where are you going?” I asked.
“Madison Square Garden.”
“To see the Harlem Globe Trotters.”
“Wow! They’re still playing? I used to see them as a kid [a fact which doesn’t interest or impress my interlocutor].”
(I’m not sure what I actually did say. I never did see the Globetrotters play, as a spectator.)
“They’re a lot of fun,” I said.
No response, at first, then the boy said, “It’s for my birthday.”
“How old are you?”
“Nine.” Said in a flat tone, without inflection, as if it were no big deal.
And, indeed, at this age, while having a birthday is certainly fun and exciting, the fact of what one’s age is is not an important one.
And life is taken and experienced as it occurs.
— Roger W. Smith
December 27, 2019