Old People Say the Darndest ThingsEpisode 2
On Sunday I met my Scrabble Friend on the sidewalk outside of her apartment.
She was deep in discussion with her neighbor, a resident at Mt. Sinai Hospital named Ari. The topic of conversation was Atul Gawande's book Complications, which had been well received by my Scrabble Friend's book club, but Ari didn't think much of it. They agreed to disagree, and he fondly patted her on the shoulder as he walked east to reclaim his laundry from the laundromat, and we headed west towards the park.
It was sun-shiny and 50+ degrees; after a winter of Scrabble games played inside her apartment, we were ready to have a game in the great outdoors. Plus, she said she wanted to show me the SnowDrops which were starting to bloom in the Conservatory Garden. It seemed to me that we had just gone looking for signs of SnowDrops, but that was a year ago already. We both remarked on how fast time passes.
Crossing Fifth Avenue, we peered into the park where half the city had congregated to enjoy this first taste of spring. People were playing frisbie, teenagers were wearing flip-flops, dogs were running off the leash. We passed a playground, overrun with kiddos crawling all over everything, swinging from swings and sliding down slides.
My Scrabble Friend paused on the sidewalk. "Just think, all of this - " she said, gesturing to the mob of children running around the playground, " - is a result of love-making."
Um, yep. I guess that is accurate.
I may stress about the uncertainties in my life, but this much I know I can count on: SnowDrops will bloom every Spring, and old people will continue to say the darndest things.
"There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven." (Ecc. 3:1)