"Ignorance is bliss," my grandfather advised as we sat reflecting on the front porch. Like wine I felt my grandfather had aged to perfection. He too became more cherished with age. Our topic of discussion was one we did not talk of often. Death. Death and how unexpectedly and swiftly it can change lives. Specifically, however, we were discussing David, my mentor, my neighbor, and my friend. .
At the ripe young age of nine one does not have many worries, of course if Barbie is missing a shoe the world will end, but other than that one would say life is pretty easy. I, as a child, could play all day and destroy my toy bin. I would revamp my bedroom by turning it into a fort and miraculously end up in my bed the next morning with the room clean and toys straightened only to do it all again that day. Such luxuries as these left little to no room for stress and worrying. However, anytime the folks caused a little disruption in my calm homeostasis I would trot my way right over to my neighbors. David seemed to know everything. From Barbie's Malibu Playhouse to elementary math, nothing was too large of a dilemma for David. At the conclusion of every school day the remainder of my day would be spent explaining to David every explicit detail to what knowledge I had acquired. When summer came, my visitations were surprisingly fewer being that pools needed to be swam in and barbeques needed to be had. Never the less at least twice a week David would get the scoop.
David, at age thirty-five, was a handsome man. With no former children .
from any previous marriage one would expect him to be lonely. However not until .
now could I read the sure tell-tale signs of his loneliness; David always making .
time for me was more time he didn't have to spend by himself. In retrospect I see now that I was always the one talking in all of our conversations. Never did I take the time to listen. Granted I was young and ignorant, listening would not have been beyond me.