“How old are you, Grandpa?” Leo asked
I paused for a moment
“Eighty-two next month”
The children gazed at me with wonder
“How do you get to be that old?” Vida asked
“Think pure thoughts,” I said
“And work hard — don’t let yourself be lazy”
We had just finished breakfast
Pancakes, bacon, maple syrup
Their parents had driven off to work
My first all-day test as a sitter
“How old do you think is old?” I asked
“Twenty-five,” Vida suggested
“No, thirty,” Leo argued
I agreed, “Thirty sounds good”
“Thirty, maybe even more”
We were sitting on the carpet
playing with the children’s toy cars
I had the yellow car
The children green and purple
Here I am, I thought to myself
Nearing the last stages of my life
While the children have
most of theirs left
“”Vroom vroom vroom,” I roared
pushing my race car from side to side
“Vroom vroom vroom,” the children repeated
chasing one another toward the piano bench
There are many things we can learn from each other
Grandparents, grandchildren
Such different places, eons apart
I know a few things about growing older
But the children have much more to teach
about the secrets of being young
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