I'm on a Work for Food programme.
I babysit my twin nephews.
I get fed.
My sister, naturally reserved, is open and expressive with her love for her boys.
Meanwhile, her Bossy Advisory Services, directed primarily at me for 35-odd years, appears to be on hold.
(I must admit—I continue to be a beneficiary.)
She now says, "I wonder if..." instead of, "I think you..." in a tone approaching gentle.
From the boys, one learns to look up.
From watching them peer up—at lifts, buildings, trees, clouds through the car's sunroof, at nothing and everything—with always—and now I understand that phrase—childlike wonder.
A twofold reminder that the usual cloaks the special.
On my way to work, I make it a point to look up at the skies.
"The only true voyage of discovery, the only fountain of Eternal Youth, would be not to visit strange lands but to possess other eyes, to behold the universe through the eyes of another..."
I'm not sure about this growing up business.
Lately, it's been a ton more fun growing down.