He’s 8 years old and was here a couple days ago because his grandmother had business with my mother. I gave him some fruit juice and the TV remote, but time passed so I returned to the living room and asked if he’d like to go outside. His face lit up, a big smile showing teeth growing in at different stages. I mean his face really lit up.

So we went out. I accompanied him both out of interest and because it didn’t seem wise to leave him alone in an unfamiliar place with cars going by so fast up front.

He wore crocs on his feet which was a good thing since the grass was quite wet. A bony little guy, all elbows and knees.

Kids like being in the driver’s seat of a tractor, and he was no exception. He talked of how he really likes engines, and knew the part recently attached to the steering column was a battery. He likes to climb trees, but the branches of our old climbing trees, the magnolias, were out of his height range. He said the lightning-struck oak was like a tree in a movie. He pointed up and said the branches looked like a big hand. He was interested in the tree with its one remaining orange showing all the little green oranges how it can be done. And the fig tree—he likes figs. Too bad they’re still hard and green. The goldfish seemed to unnerve him a little, his body tensed, though he said they’ve grown big. That piqued my interest—they look pretty little to me. He noticed the kites hardly ever have to flap their wings.

As we returned to the front door, his grandmother emerged—he was happy to see her- and it was time for them to part. He turned around for a last wave.

I was honored to share his company, that he was willing to share his perspective with me.