Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Candles and Cakes
Zoe, our five year old granddaughter, had an overnight with us several weeks ago. It was just the two of us that night. I fixed bulls eye eggs for dinner and had already lifted my fork when she said, “Grandma, it’s Friday night. Don’t you think we should light the candles and say the blessings?”
Right. The child had brought with her a small challah. Together, we put the candles in their holders, found the matches, poured the wine. I was about to strike the match when she said, “First we have to take a deep breath and welcome Shabbat.”
Right again. After dinner, we went upstairs to read a few stories together until it was time for her bath.
“Grandma, I’d like to relax for a while.” She leaned back in a bubble filled tub and sucked her thumb.
“Sure, Zoe, take a soak.” I twirled her hair into a wet bun at the top of her head.
“Let’s have a conversation.” Zoe pushed the whirlpool button on, then off.
“What would you like to talk about?”
“Do I get to pick because I’m the guest?”
“How do you know when someone dies?”
Her question took me completely by surprise although I knew death had been on her mind for some time. She misses our dog Emma and often asks questions about a grandmother she never knew. She knows her uncle is seriously ill. I wanted to give her just enough of an answer but not too much. After all, she’s five years old and you never know the genesis of a five year old’s questions even if you think you do. Remember the Art Linkletter story about the little boy who, after asking his mom where he came from, learned the basics of sex and babies when all he really wanted to know was where he was born, Chicago or Detroit.
Not wanting to give her more information than she needed, I said, “A person stops breathing when they die. That’s how you know.” Satisfied with that answer, she asked if we could bake a cake together in the morning.
What I find so astounding and wonderful about this child is her capacity to consider the harsher realities of life and, in a breath, swing fully and with complete abandon to the joys.